Shine Against Me
by lachlanrose
Summary: Logan and Marie talk about pornography... and then things get crazy. W/R
1. Faith

**Title: **Shine Against Me  
**Author:** lachlanrose  
**Disclaimer: **Nope. Still not mine. Damn.  
**Feedback: **Makes the Muses (and Prince) wanna party like it's 1999! The good, the bad, the ugly, welcome. Flames may be publicly mocked.  
**Summary:** Logan and Marie talk about pornography…. and then things get crazy. W/R  
**Notes: **Don't look at me… I have no idea where this came from other than to say it hit me out of the blue during my daily three miles. (Gah! Anything to make the miles go faster) and by the time I hit the last mile, the bunny was firmly attached and I spent way too many late nights writing, trying to shake them loose. They were very insistent. Nudie magazines. Computer files. Erotica. Voyeurism. Sex clubs. Power tools...  
This one is a post X3. It's on the lighter side, but the intimate conversations take place against a longer/deeper story arc. There is a plot and a method to my madness. A very huge thank you to doctorg, whose amazing work grabbed me out of lurkdom and kick-started my muses like whoa. She kindly offered to kick the rust off and beta this craziness. It was just supposed to be quickie but it mutated… I'll be slappin' this baby with my usual warning — to the power of ten. (Uh, have you seen the summary?) _It is seriously adult in theme and content. _**You have been warned! **This fic is told in 'slice of life' moments. Some are short (like a page) some are long (like twenty pages) If they're super short, I'll try to post two together or post two days in a row, depending on how the breaks fall.

* * *

**Shine Against Me**

It had taken some doing, but the old gamekeeper's cottage at the edge of Xavier's estate was finally livable, although exactly how livable was still a subject of much debate. The crumbling structure had been Logan's pet project for the better part of a year. The work had been slow going, mostly because he'd wanted to do it himself and there were only so many hours in the day. The school and the team came first, but little by little, the cottage became less a dilapidated heap of stone slag and more a home.

In truth, Logan needed both the space and the work to keep his mind occupied. He was not a joiner by nature, and making a place for himself among people again had been hard. Swinging a hammer felt good. The monotony was pleasantly numbing and it felt good to tear something down and rebuild it, stronger and better than it had been before. The irony of that was not lost on him either.

With Charles, Scott, and Jean gone, the lion's share of the work had fallen to Ororo, and reluctantly, to him. Now, a year after that terrible loss, things were finally beginning to stabilize. Storm had taken over running the school. They needed a doctor on staff and Hank had returned to help them through the first rocky year without Charles. They'd picked up a few new faces as well, most notably an annoying Cajun who still rubbed Logan wrong most days. Enrollment was back up and Magneto and his merry little band of freaks had been blessedly silent. Kitty, Bobby, Jubilee and Piotr were coming along pretty well. Still a bit green around the edges, but at least they had a little seasoning now.

And then there was Marie.

Logan couldn't even think about her without it bringing a rush of warmth and the hint of a wry smile to his face. She was coming along too. The others had never quite gotten over the fact she'd taken the Cure, but now that it had proven to be only temporarily effective, they'd begun to come around. That had happened right about the time the gloves went back on. Assholes. Marie was still very much an outsider, but things were better now than they'd been for a while, and Logan had never been too sure that being an outsider was really such a bad thing to begin with.

She didn't seem overly bothered by it. Perhaps it was her odd friendship with him that kept her from true loneliness. It was deep and intimate yet as strangely platonic as it had been since she'd first climbed in his truck a lifetime ago.

Marie approached the small cottage with a bounce in her step. It was always good to see Logan. He slept out here most nights now and she missed talking to him, even if it was just in passing. Today there was no door to knock on, so she raised her hand to rap on the jamb but he beat her to it.

"C'mon in, kid."

Marie took a moment to appreciate the view. He'd stripped down to his jeans and boots and was busy removing lathing strips with a crowbar. Plaster dust floated in the air, sticking to his sweaty body. There were bits in his wild dark hair and dust on his shoulders and clinging to the moist sheen at the small of his back. The sight took her breath away and made her shiver, despite the summer heat.

"Thanks, sugar. How did you even know I was here?" She was quiet. Not Logan's ninja-quiet, but she'd been on the team long enough to learn a few things, and she still had enough of him in her head that she moved well through natural woodland terrain.

"Smelled ya," he tossed over his shoulder, not even bothering to look her way while he pried at a particularly stubborn board.

"Um, okay." Out of the corner of his eye, he caught her sniffing her hair.

"Smelled the food," he clarified, setting the crowbar aside. Normally he'd catch her scent first, but he was hungry and the bag smelled like fried chicken, cornbread and peach pie. Of course, he knew that already. Marie had lost a bet to him. That's why she was bringing him dinner. The team often played poker together, but not usually for money. Suiting up in the leather wasn't exactly the kind of job that brought home the big bucks.

Usually, they'd all write down something they were willing to do and they would toss that in the pot instead. Jubilee had offered her services as a personal shopper. Bobby offered to make it snow in July. 'Ro offered to chase away the rain one gloomy afternoon. He'd offered up an oil change. Marie had thrown in a home cooked dinner, her mama's recipe for fried chicken and cornbread. She was a little put out when she lost. Marie was good at poker but he was better. He'd wanted that dinner. He'd wanted her to cook for him even more.

He felt the sweat trickle. It was hot, thirsty work. Logan wondered what she'd think of how the place was coming along. The cottage had a sound roof now, working plumbing, and electricity. That was handy for the power tools, though he still preferred candles for light in the evening. All the weight-bearing exterior walls had been finished, but the rest was in complete chaos, except for the large deck out back. He'd finished that first.

Logan now slept on a low makeshift pallet amongst the construction materials in the living room and Marie couldn't help but smile at the two boxes pushed together under a tarp at the edge of the open space. He'd always travelled light. Those two small boxes represented all he had in the world. He was in the middle of ripping down yet another crumbling old wall. Plaster dust covered everything. He looked sweaty and thirsty. No surprise there. It was hot. Summer in New York with no central air? He was lucky he didn't have heatstroke.

Her attention still on the wide naked chest rippling with muscles as he worked, she absently deposited the food on the kitchen island and rummaged through one of the bags before pulling out a cold beer and tossing it in his general direction. She was aware his unique senses would compensate.

Plucking it from the air without even looking, he cracked it and stepped back to appraise his handiwork. He was opening up what had been the bedroom wall.

"Whatcha think, darlin'?"

"That if you take out much more of that wall, anyone coming up the front walk will have a straight line of sight through the front window to your bed." Her eyes twinkled. "But who knows. Maybe you're into that?"

He chuckled. "Nah. I'm puttin' the bed up in the loft eventually. Still open, but a better expectation of privacy. Was thinkin' of makin' it all open down here."

"Sounds good." She opened a beer for herself. He didn't say anything, despite the fact she was still a little short of the legal limit. He didn't much care. She was older than the Canadian limit and she looked good with a long neck in her hand.

"You think?" He was curious. She'd been giving him her opinion on the process from day one. No reason to break with tradition now. Usually she just sort of nodded along with his plans, but occasionally she spoke up. She'd been emphatic about a window in front of the kitchen sink and had told him in no uncertain terms, if he ever planned on entertaining a woman here, that it definitely needed a better bathroom; not opulent but at least functional. A bathtub. Not just a shower. That had been a blow to the budget, but nothing a few rounds in the cage couldn't fix. It had delayed things a few more weeks, but he was making progress once again now that his weekends weren't spent hammering random assholes into the ground.

"I like it. Nice and open. It's got good flow. Or it will when you've got that wall down. You shouldn't demo all the lathing throughout though. It's pretty."

"Pretty?" The Wolverine didn't do pretty.

Marie shrugged. "I like old things, but hey, it's your home. Do what you want, sugar."

"Always do," he said with a wink.

She rolled her eyes. "Want me to make you a plate while you wash up?"

Logan nodded, shaking off the worst of the dust as he brushed the bits of plaster from his hair. They both headed to the kitchen. Marie's steps faltered for a moment and following her gaze, he suddenly realized why.

The latest edition of Playboy lay face up on the bar, the glossy cover shining in the late afternoon sun next to a bottle of good bourbon and the cigar he'd bought to smoke tonight; his plan for unwinding this evening painfully clear.

Shit.

It wasn't that he was embarrassed, but she didn't need to see that.

Logan reached out one thick arm and turned the magazine face down on the counter. He could feel Marie's eyes on him.

"Sorry, kid. That ain't respectful." He turned his back and began washing his hands in the sink, grateful for something to do that didn't involve looking at her pink face.

The lingering remnant of old fashioned chivalry touched her, making her smile as she broke out the food she'd brought and began to plate it up. "Don't worry about it. It's fine. I mean, I don't have a sex life except with myself so it's not as if I'm any stranger to pornography, though Playboy's not really my thing..."

Her cheeks burned scarlet as she realized what she'd just said. Her oral filter had always been damnably absent with him.

Logan swung around sharply, mouth slightly open in shock before it quirked up at the corner.

"Oversharing! Sorry! Forget I said that…."

"No chance in hell of that, darlin'." His eyes glittered.

She plated the food a little faster. "Nothing to see here, move along…."

She thrust the plate of food in his general direction. His eyebrow rose.

"You're not stayin'?" He'd been a bit amused by her discomfort but now he just felt cheated. There weren't too many people he liked spending time with and she was obviously poised for flight. Running again. Too bad. He'd been hoping to sit on the back deck with her and crack a few beers. Something easy. A warm night, a few cold beers and some good conversation with a friend.

"Um. No." She was going to go die of mortification. Marie forced a bright smile. She was the Rogue for God's sake. She could brazen it out. "I can't. I've got a hot date."

"With who?" It better not be that Cajun prick.

"With myself, sugar," she teased, throwing him a kiss and a saucy wink, and bouncing out the open front doorway before he could say another word.

The mental image her words called up was every kind of hot.

_Jesus._

Logan scrubbed a hand over his face.

That particular fire didn't need any more fuel.

He took the plate of food out back and tucked in. There was a certain satisfaction in eating a meal she'd prepared, though it was a very different sort of satisfaction that occupied his thoughts long into the night.

* * *

Up next: **In A Big Country**. Logan and Marie get in the wind. There are some conversations you can only have on the open road...


	2. In A Big Country

Marie liked going on pick-ups with Logan. Things were better now with the others than they'd been shortly after she'd returned from taking the Cure, but it was still awkward to be alone with them for long periods of time. They'd never really forgiven her. They saw her desire for the Cure - her desire to neutralize her mutation - as a betrayal; a rejection of them, their cause and of herself, too. It was a deep wound that was still healing.

In contrast, it was easy to be with Logan. It always had been. Even hours of silence didn't make her feel uncomfortable. He didn't give a shit what the others thought about either of them. Their treatment of Marie pissed him off, but he'd never been one to let anyone dictate his behavior. He'd simply made a place for her in his life and anyone who didn't like that could go fuck themselves as far as he was concerned.

Logan was good company. He was usually rude and irascible, but also prone to surprisingly deep conversation between his moments of surly silence and biting sarcasm. In the right mood — and with the right person — he told a good story, and he also appreciated a well-timed joke, the dirtier the better. Marie approved.

Logan was driving, as usual. Marie had a map in her hand and a cherry Slurpee between her knees. The sweet, syrupy scent wasn't doing much for him, but he could appreciate the way it had turned her tongue red and her full lips a deeper shade of rose.

Marie had her nose buried in the map, oblivious to his scrutiny. Logan didn't do GPS. He stayed off the grid as much as possible. While Marie could appreciate his reasons for doing so, she fully embraced modern technology, though her phone and Ipod were, at present, stowed away in her bag. She wasn't about to waste this opportunity. She'd rather talk to him, or even just sit with him in silence. She missed too much with her earbuds in— and she had to put up with his pithy comments about her eclectic taste in music.

The scenery sped past and the quiet stretched out comfortably. Marie had one foot up on the sun-warmed dash and she was humming along off-key to an old Johnny Cash song on the radio as the miles rolled by. Her finger traced the map, slowly tracking a red line up the page.

"North on 87 almost to the border, sugar. Then west on 11 to Mooers. Maybe another hour or so with the way you drive."

_Lead foot_, she'd teased.

_Nah, adamantium_, he'd shot back with a wry smirk.

They passed a billboard advertising Richard and Kitty's Roadside Adult Video Shop. Highlights included parking for big rigs, video booths and a new shipment of Fleshlights.

"Nice." Marie rolled her eyes. "Richard and Kitty? Not too subtle, are they?"

Frankly, he was a little surprised she got the joke.

"Didn't take you for a prude, darlin'."

She giggled. "I'm not. I just don't get the allure. First of all, who drives around needing to come so bad that pulling into a place like that seems like a good option? And second, that's a pretty private thing. I'm all for orgasms, but I can't really see how having one in a building full of random strangers would be satisfying or relaxing in any way."

Of course she didn't get it. She was a good girl.

_A good girl who was all for orgasms, apparently_, his unhelpful libido supplied.

He shrugged. "Life on the road can be kinda lonely."

There was an unreadable look on her face. "Have you ever….?"

"Nah. Not my style." He didn't need to pay for it. Women threw themselves at him wherever he went. When he felt the itch, all it usually took was stopping for a beer somewhere. It typically wasn't long before some sweet thing was crawling into his lap.

"Been tempted?"

"Nope." A low growl of amusement rumbled in his chest. "But I could turn the car around if you're curious, baby."

"Thanks." Her laugh was belly deep. It made her eyes warm and sparkly and put a flush on her pretty face. "But it's not really my style either."

"What is?" He kept his eyes on the road, as if he'd only been asking about the weather. "We know it's not Playboy," he couldn't resist adding, enjoying her blush more than he should.

"Come on, Logan. That's pretty personal, don't you think?"

"Darlin', you've got me in your head, and a coupla days back you saw a porno about four steps away from my bed. Does it get any more personal than that?"

"Yes," she said truthfully. But there was no way she was going near any of those kinds of details.

"Then if you're still at center ice, what's the problem?"

That just made her laugh. "Fine then. It's not really magazines for me. I like it at the touch of a finger."

His eyes widened and his head swung around sharply as his fingers tightened reflexively on the stick shift. He'd only been teasing her a little. He never imagined she'd say something like _that_. That was little crass for her, not that he minded. But still.

"OhMyGod! Not that! The internet! Geez! I don't like anyone knowing my personal business."

"Fair enough."

"And magazines are a little old school." Plus buying them embarrassed her. Admitting that probably wouldn't help. There was that old adage about being too young for pornography if you were too embarrassed to buy it, though it wasn't so much embarrassment as it was that it was just intensely personal. The world didn't need to know what turned her on. She was still working that out for herself.

"Thanks a lot."

"Hey, the classics never go out of style, right?"

"There's somethin' to be said for a good pinup girl."

"It's more the erotica side for me. Usually, anyway. Words not pictures, though other things get a look-in occasionally."

He digested that, feeling heat begin to prickle under his arms and at the small of his back. A different sort of heat was beginning to gather lower down.

"What about you, sugar?"

"Me?"

"Pictures or words?"

"Oh. Heh. Pictures."

"No dirty movies?" She was surprised.

"On a communal television in a school filled with all kindsa kids, when some of 'em don't ever sleep?"

"I see your point." She put that fucking red straw between her lips and sucked. Logan felt himself begin to get hard even though it had been completely asexual. _It's just a Slurpee. Get your shit together, Wolverine. _"Maybe when you get your house finished," she teased, sticking that damned red tongue of hers out at him.

"Somethin' to look forward to." He snorted. "Gonna start layin' the floor when we get back. You wanna help?"

"You just don't wanna spend all afternoon on your knees by yourself."

At any other time it probably wouldn't have been a huge deal, but on the heels of their previous conversation, her comment sent a hot blush sweeping down her neck and chest.

"Not my style either," he said with a wicked grin that only made her blush more.

"Oh my God! You're beyond help." She smacked his arm. "But yeah, I'll pitch in if you spring for the beer."

"Deal."

* * *

Up next: **Like A Virgin**. The Rogue spends a little quality time with the Wolverine. It begins with hardwood and ends with something neither of them expected...

For the curious: Richard and Kitty's roadside porn shack is real — or at least it was a few years ago when I passed it on a road trip (though I've relocated it to the East Coast for the purposes of this story). Wish you all could have seen the billboard. It was cheesy, rude, hilarious and just on the acceptable side of indecent.


	3. Like A Virgin

It took four weekends to finish laying the floor. It wasn't overly large, but the cottage was old and not terribly square, and twice they'd been interrupted by Storm and Hank who'd needed Logan up at the school.

Logan and Marie sat in the middle of the wide expanse of finished floor, sharing a beer between them and enjoying their handiwork. The wide rustic planks were beautiful. Solid and rugged but with a natural charm all their own.

"We did good, kid." He tweaked her ponytail. "Even if you are afraid of the power tools."

"Hey, if _I_ cut something off, it's not going to regenerate." It hadn't stopped him from teaching her how to use every tool it had taken to get the job done. She was a quick study and good help. She had a mouth on her, but it had only made the job more fun. Her sense of humor was delightfully wicked.

"True. But you know I won't letcha get hurt."

She knew.

"Looks nice." Marie took the beer from Logan's fingers and necked the bottle. "What color were you thinking?"

"I dunno. Natural, maybe. Whatddya think?"

"I'm not sure. That's a lot of one color." He'd left the natural support beams exposed and he had plans for a cedar ceiling and she knew he intended to make most of the furniture himself. "Maybe walnut or espresso? Something rich and dark to show off the rest?" Something in his chest turned over at her words. He chose not to examine it too closely.

"Maybe." He took the beer back from her and drained it. "Want somethin' stronger? I was thinkin' we earned a bourbon out back with our feet up."

"Sounds good."

They settled into the deck chairs and he pressed a drink into her hand. The sun had set already but Marie could see he'd been working out back. He'd cleared a place for a fire pit and gathered a pile of stones to build it. The lake lay a short distance beyond the fire pit, lapping gently in the breeze. Fall was coming. The idea of sitting with him out here by a roaring fire was nice. Cozy.

She had a lazy smile on her face.

"Whatcha thinkin' about?"

"Sitting with you by the fire." She waved her hand in the general direction of the fire pit. The delicate silver rings she wore glittered cooly in the moonlight.

"Still too hot," he said, stripping off the flannel and wiping his face with it before sitting back in the chair and putting his feet up.

Wasn't that the truth? Marie's mouth watered and it had nothing to do with the fine drink in her hand or the sultry summer evening.

Logan's jeans were covered in dust, dirty at the knees and the hair on his head and forearms was sprinkled liberally with sawdust. His white tank was sticky and moist. It clung to his skin the same way Marie's little black tank clung to hers. She didn't wear gloves at his place. She didn't feel the need to and it was just dangerous with the power tools. He liked that she was thinking about sitting by the fire with him.

"I like it here, sugar. I like sitting by a fire, too." He was watching her face. She'd gone within, remembering a happier time. Maybe camping with her parents or bonfires with her friends before her life had changed course forever.

"Me too. I like the heat and watchin' the sparks drift up into the sky. S'peaceful."

"Yeah."

"And it's what people do, right? Sit around with a bunch of buddies, drinkin' and tellin' lies 'bout how often they scored and lamentin' that special one who got away." He felt a sudden bolt of discomfort. He'd meant it as a joke, but it had landed a little too close to the mark.

Marie snorted. "Well, I don't have any sex stories to tell. Sorry." She actually was. The idea of trading intimate stories with Logan had a certain… appeal.

"Well, I don't have a buncha good buddies to tell any lies to, so I guess that makes us even. I probably wouldn't know how, even if I did. We're just two outcasts sharin' the night. Nothin' wrong with that." His white teeth flashed in the darkness. He had always been able to put her at ease, seemingly without effort. "Besides, you said you had sex with yourself. That counts. Plenty of fodder there for a good story."

Sweet Jesus. That was the understatement of the century. He was playing with fire. It was fun now, but he had the sense it could get out of control very quickly. The thought somehow wasn't as terrifying as it should have been.

Marie blinked slowly. He couldn't possibly have been serious. It was too ridiculous to even contemplate.

"That's it. I'm cutting you off, sugar."

He chuckled. "S'my deck. My booze. Sorry, baby. You're shit outta luck." Lifting the bottle from the deck beside him, he refilled both their glasses. "You wanna go first or should I?"

Marie choked on her drink.

"Guess it's me then." He took a sip of the amber liquid in his glass. "There was this woman-"

"Logan!"

"That's what she said," he smirked.

"Shut up, already!"

"Fine. You go first then."

She sighed. He was like a dog with a bone. She knew he wasn't going to let this go. "Okay. Marie once had a boyfriend named David. She kissed him and he almost died. Then she got a new boyfriend named Bobby. She kissed him too, only he dumped her for her touchable friend Kitty so he wouldn't die. Bobby and Kitty had sex. Lots and lots of crazy monkey sex. Marie had her imagination and an overpriced piece of silicone, but no actual sex. The end."

Logan was shaking his head at her sass and trying not to think too much about silicone in that context. It was a losing battle. Her intimate confession didn't really surprise him. She was a sensual person, passionate and incredibly tactile. He should have realized she would compensate for the lack of physical contact. He forced back the pictures her words had painted in his mind's eye. "You and Bobby never…?"

"No. I wanted to but by the time I got back, he'd already fallen for Kitty."

"That sucks." He meant it, but a selfish part of him was also relieved. "What about after? You'd had the Cure. It worked for a while." She could have had anyone. Anyone she wanted. Waiting for her answer was painful. He was aware he didn't have any right to know. He'd had no claim on her then. He didn't really have one now, either. They had a deep bond because of what had happened before, and they had a close friendship that had broadened and grown out of the ashes of Jean's death, but she was not his. Not in that way.

Marie shrugged. "I tried to be that girl, sugar. I wanted to be her, even. There were men and bars and dancing and even some kissing and groping, but I guess when it comes down to brass tacks, it has to mean something or I don't want to. There's not a whole lot up here," she tapped her head, "that's just Marie anymore. I guess I didn't feel like giving up any of those Marie pieces to someone who didn't matter." She took a deep drink. "Now aren't you glad you asked?"

"I am, actually."

"You're just a glutton for punishment, aren't you?"

"Hell, yes." His eyes twinkled. "But we're not talkin' 'bout what I like. It's still your turn…"

She rolled her eyes. "I don't have any sex stories to tell."

"Yes, you do," he said softly.

"I'm not telling you about that!"

He shrugged. "You know I do it."

"You don't hear me asking about it though, do ya?" They were both very aware she hadn't said she wasn't interested.

"I'd tell you if you wanted to know." The words were quiet. Honest. They were coming dangerously close to the crossing the line between friendship and something more. She could never tell with him if he was actually interested as a man, or if it was some strange sense of duty he felt because he'd promised to look out for her. The Wolverine version of a come-to-Jesus birds and bees talk for an untouchable girl.

She took the easy way out and made a joke of it. "I don't need to ask. I've got you and five other men in my head, sugar. I don't think there's anything you could tell me about that subject that I don't already know. Granted it's from the male perspective, but it's not rocket science."

"Well, damn." He wasn't really kidding. He'd never thought about it like that. "So tell me about the erotica then." He generously refilled both their glasses.

"I see what you're doing there." She was pretty buzzed. An afternoon of hard work and a couple of drinks on an empty stomach was making her feel all floaty and loose.

"Ain't tryin' to hide it." He took a drink. "Why words and not pictures?"

"Because I have a very active imagination and there's nothing I've ever seen either in magazines or on film that even comes close to how hot it is in here." She touched her temple.

"Hell. I think I need another drink to put the flames out." He tossed back another, smiling at her as she giggled.

"What kindsa words?"

"Oh no. We are so not going _there_." She was not about to tell him what she read about to get herself off.

"Why not?"

"You don't hear me asking what kind of pictures you like looking at, do you?"

"Leggy brunettes with a nice rack," he said; his voice as even as if he'd just told her the time.

Despite how it sounded, Marie knew a challenge when she heard one. Especially from this particular man.

"Okay, then. Let's try this on. I don't just like to read erotica. I also like to write it."

He dropped his glass. The wet creep splashed onto his pants, wetting his thigh and running under his seat.

"Shit!"

"I guess I win."

He glared at her.

"You made that up." She didn't smell like she was lying, but he was having a hard time wrapping his mind around that one.

"Nope."

"Prove it."

Marie dug her phone from her back pocket and he watched her fingers tapping away before she hit send. "There. Texted you my penname and a website. Knock yourself out, cowboy." She was probably going to regret that in the morning when she was sober, but right now it felt pretty good. It wasn't often one got to see the Wolverine at a disadvantage.

Logan wasn't sure what to do with that information. The first course of action would probably be to buy a laptop. Screw being off the grid. He could make his mind up after that, though there wasn't even the smallest sliver of him that didn't want to read what she'd written. In general, he wasn't really big on personal restraint. If it felt good, he did it. Repeatedly.

She stood and immediately groaned as her tired, aching body protested. It had been a mistake to sit down so soon. She should have walked back the school and showered first.

"What?"

"Oh my God, my ass! I am SO sore." All that bending and stooping and squatting. It was worse than 'Ro's advanced yoga class.

He chuckled. "Want a massage?" That time he was clearly kidding and they both grinned.

"You know, if I could move I'd kick you, but your healing factor would just fix that, too."

"Yep. Thing's a real bitch sometimes. All that hard labor and I feel great."

"Now you're just rubbing it in."

"You sure you don't want that massage?"

"What? And deprive you of your need for that Playboy later?"

Well, that was the truth. He certainly wouldn't be interested in that if he'd spent the evening rubbing his hands all over every luscious inch of her, but admitting that seemed like one step too far.

He flashed his teeth at her. "It's Hustler this month."

Marie snickered and then groaned again as she swung her leg over the lounge chair and grimaced, steeling herself for the long walk back to the mansion.

His amusement dissolved at the first scent of her pain. "Hey, kid. Go inside and have a hot bath. There's a clean shirt on the back of the bathroom door. You know where the candles are. I'll stay out here." It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her to just stay over, but he knew his limits. Wrapping a naked Marie in his scent and putting her in his bed when they were both drunk was probably only going to end up one way. "I'll be sober enough by then to give ya a ride back."

She considered that for a moment. "You promise?"

"Yeah, I promise."

"Okay."

It wasn't until she hobbled inside that he realized she'd sounded a little disappointed by his answer.

* * *

Up next: **Round and Round**. In which Marie loses a bet and Logan gets to have his cake... and eat it, too.


	4. Round and Round

It was more than a week before Logan saw Marie again down at the house. She'd lost to him at poker and this time she owed him dinner and a fancy dessert. He was out on the deck with a beer in his hand when she arrived. The box she carried had his stomach growling in anticipation. She was a good cook and even better company.

He saw her with new eyes now, changed forever by what he'd read — and his visceral reaction to it. He was still trying to wrap his mind around what she'd written. Reading it had made him hard. Made him come. Made him see her differently. It was a welcome change. She was still young, but she had some very compelling, adult thoughts that had radically shifted his perspective.

He'd needed some time to let that settle. In fact, he could probably use more of it. It wasn't that they'd been avoiding each other. He'd run into her at the school a few times and had sat across the table from her playing poker a couple of nights back, but this was the first time they'd been alone together and free to talk about the intimate words she'd shared with him. The faint color in her cheeks told him she was thinking about it too.

Good.

She was probably wondering if he'd read any yet. She should know better. He never did anything by half measures.

Logan knew he couldn't just jump right in. Despite his propensity to be painfully direct, it was the kind of conversation that needed to be eased into, maybe after dinner and a few beers on the back deck. The last thing he wanted to do was make her uncomfortable. Especially here.

He acknowledged her with a nod as she came up the path. He could wait. Patience and hunting went hand in hand. Reading those words had flipped some sort of switch inside him. What had been affectionate and familial was now electric. Predatory.

She fidgeted a little under his intense gaze. It gave him an inward stick of satisfaction that was spiked heavily with pleasure. She was not unmoved. He could tell she felt it too, even before he'd said anything, but he kept his tone light as he greeted her. Like he hadn't just had a very intimate walk through her head. From sweet and sensual to dirty and rough. She'd let him see it _all_.

The change in their energy was profound.

"Hey, kid." As she grew closer the wind shifted, bringing with it a mix of scents that made his mouth water. "Smells real good."

"Chicken fried steak, biscuits and gravy, black eyed peas and…?"

He sniffed. "Somethin' chocolate."

"Bite your tongue, sugar. That's my mama's better-than-sex chocolate cake. Show some respect."

_Heh._

He should have known she wouldn't tuck tail and run. Meek wasn't in her nature. She was here on his deck with mischief in her eyes and a little wild in her smile as she teased him. Her choice to make him that particular dessert hadn't been arbitrary. She liked winding him up. There weren't too many people who could throw down with the Wolverine and hold their own.

Amusement rumbled in his big chest. "Better than sex, huh?"

"Yep." Marie nodded. "You can give me the full report tomorrow." She sounded half disappointed and half relieved. He knew they needed to talk, but maybe she needed a little more time.

"You're not stayin'?" The day seemed suddenly less bright.

"Can't. Hank roped me into helping him take a group of the advanced students to the observatory. I just can't say no to that guy." Her voice was warm with affection. She genuinely liked big blue and it showed. However warmly she felt about Hank, Logan could sense it was more about needing a little time and less about helping a friend.

"More for me, then." He tried for a lightness he didn't really feel. He wasn't going to push. Not about this. He wasn't that big of a dick. "Let me get that for ya, darlin'."

He moved to take the box from her. She let him, but took the precariously balanced cake back off the top and followed him inside. Looking around, she was a little surprised. Logan was an efficient, skilled craftsman and it was strange to see the space looking exactly the same way it had the last time she'd visited a week ago. No new work had been done. He hadn't even put the tools away after they'd finished the floor. Her eyes slipped around the large open space. It was exactly the same - except for the new slim laptop sitting on the bed.

Just the sight of it sent a hot rush of blood to her face. It tingled under her skin, surging wildly as she realized how he'd been spending his downtime.

After driving a sore and tipsy Marie back to the mansion last weekend, Logan had found a bar and done some fighting. And then he'd found a shittier bar and done some real fighting. He had bought a laptop with his winnings on the way home and then he'd gone straight down the rabbit hole. Marie had written a lot. And he had consumed every word. The state of the house said that it had been to the exclusion of everything else.

"Whatcha been doing, sugar?"

Because it clearly hadn't been renovation.

"Readin'." His eyes glowed. Her face flamed hotter.

"Stop right there."

His eyebrow went up.

"I have not had enough alcohol to have this conversation with you right now."

"Raincheck?"

"You bet."

Pleasure curled low in his belly at the warmth in her words.

She turned to go.

"You better not be runnin'," he tossed at her back.

"I'm not." She actually even sort of wanted to have that conversation with him. She wrote erotica. He'd read it. Hell, he'd inspired most of it. There was definitely a lot to discuss.

"Good. 'Cause I know where ya live."

Marie giggled. "Enjoy the cake, sugar."

"Will do."

* * *

Up Next: **Rock the Casbah**. Drinking. Dancing. Flirting... and Marie gets her answer about the cake…

For those of you who like a heads up, the next couple of chapters are on the shorter side (under 1000 words - short, in my book) but they set up all kinds of good things to come. Ha! See what I did there? I'll try to post one every day instead of one every other day, RL permitting. Even though it's a slow burn, there's a method to my madness. We're picking up steam and heading for critical mass. The chapters will get longer and, uh, dirtier. It's me, after all. Heh.


	5. Rock the Casbah

It was several weeks before Logan caught up with Marie again. They still hadn't had their talk, but he understood it wasn't really her fault. Midterms had the skeleton staff stretched thin. Nights off were rare. On top of that, everyone was busy helping and planning for the approaching holidays. Xavier had always made a big deal out of it, mostly because there were so many students whose parents didn't want them home during the break.

Marie was in the thick of it, helping out wherever she could. She knew how it felt to not be wanted at home and she tried to help ease that burden when she recognized it in someone else.

Things were still awkward between her and the others her age, but the little children adored her. Logan couldn't really fault them for that. Kids knew special people when they met one.

He was in the library when Marie literally ran into him.

She bounced off his wide chest, rubbing her nose with a gloved hand. "Ouch!"

"Where's the fire, darlin'?" She smelled like pure sweet woman and…. brandy? He sniffed again. Yep. Peach brandy, definitely. She smelled good and looked better; like sex incarnate. Dark jeans, her favorite Frye harness boots and a black blouse that was just sheer enough for him to be able to tell she was wearing a leopard print bra.

_Jesus_.

Her bronze dangly earrings kept drawing his attention to her slim neck and her shiny lip gloss was making his blood pressure climb. He had a strong urge to bite her. Hard.

"I think I left my phone in here and I'm my way out." She hadn't had a night out to blow off some steam in weeks.

He smiled at her. "Out? Looks like you're already lit pretty good."

"Couple of shots. Nothing too crazy. Just a little warm up for the main event." She nodded again with a sexy little shimmy and then raked her hands playfully down his chest. "I wanna go dance."

Holy hell. She was all kinds of fun right now.

"Where ya off to?"

"Some new club downtown with Jubes and Gambit."

"Gambit? Jesus, darlin.' You better watch yourself around him. He's a dirty bastard." He'd know. He'd been out on the town with Gambit too. A wake of wet panties had followed. That old swamp rat could sweet talk just about any woman into his bed. "He just wantsta get into your pants."

Marie rolled her eyes. "Mine and everyone else's. I hardly think he's singling me out. That boy's not real particular from what I hear."

"You hear right." He was pretty sure that Cajun asshole wouldn't be pleased to hear Marie call him a boy. That made him smile a little.

"Don't worry about me, sugar. I like my men with a few more miles on them, you know?" A little more upstairs. Her gaze left his eyes to flicker lower to his belt buckle. A little more _downstairs_…. Focus, Marie!

"Good to know."

She gave him a hard look and then ruined it by giggling. "Hey! You never told me about mama's cake. Better than sex? Everyone says so."

"No offense to your mama, darlin', but everyone's a fuckin' liar. Either that or you all are doin' it wrong. It was damn good, but not better than sex. Or at least not better than the kinda sex I liketa have."

Her full mouth rounded into a soft 'oh'.

He kissed the top of her head and then swatted her backside. "Have fun, kid."

He was out the door before she could even pick her jaw up off the floor.

* * *

Up Next: **Cum On Feel the Noize**. Enter Jubes. And her mouth. Marie has a few choice words of her own in return…


	6. Cum On Feel the Noize

"Honestly, chica. You aren't missing that much. Really." Jubilee was emphatic.

"That's because you can do it whenever you want." Marie's voice was testy and her tone was a little sharp. She loved Jubes, but sometimes she was better in small doses. They were both making an effort these days, though they hadn't quite recaptured the easy camaraderie they'd shared before she'd taken the Cure.

Jubilee understood her desire to touch and be touched, but she still felt betrayed by Marie's desire to suppress her mutation, as if the act of doing so was some kind of personal attack or political statement. Still, they were trying, and Jubilee was nothing if not entertaining.

"The grass is always greener? Come on. Half the time they shove it down your throat and it's all you can do to breathe and keep from gagging."

Logan made a face. He hadn't meant to eavesdrop. He thought he was safe on the edge of the quad, under a tree where he was blissfully smoking a nice cigar, but damn if their voices didn't carry on the still afternoon air. Especially that little yellow one. Christ, she was annoying. Like some kind of deranged pixie on speed.

He knew Marie talked with her friends like this sometimes, but he sure as hell didn't want a front row seat. While the idea of Jubilee having sex didn't bother him, the idea of her advising Marie on the subject sure as hell did. What the fuck? Talk about the blind leading the blind. He stood up and turned to go, eyeing Marie's open window with a black scowl.

"I dunno, Jubes. I've always been pretty curious about that kind of sex."

Logan's steps slowed, his sensitive ears listening more intently now. He hadn't expected to hear that come out of her mouth.

"Curious as in...?"

"Well, I think maybe with the wrong person it could be like you said. But I think with the right person, it could be good. A way to really connect, you know, emotionally. Plus I just think it's hot."

_Jesus fuck. _

"Emotionally? Like they're even thinking just then?"

"Maybe."

She sounded defensive now.

"That's definitely a fantasy, chica."

"It's a kiss I could give, Jubes." That admission was soft, but had some real steel underneath.

Goddamn kid was killing him. She really was.

"Ah. The latex. Gotcha. Puts a whole new spin on the safe sex thing, huh?"

"I guess."

"Word to the wise: flavored is the way to go there. The others taste like ass." She stopped and giggled. "Not, you know, actual ass...but spermicide is just icky. _No bueno_. Trust!"

"Jubes," Marie chided, half horrified and half amused.

Jubilee ignored her. "Seriously! You can't get your sexy mojo on if you're cringing at the taste and trying not to hurl. Major mood killer. You also shouldn't have to do that just because it's, like, the last strawberry left at the deadly skin buffet, you know?"

Logan winced.

"It's not a have-to. It's a want-to. Something I think about probably far too much."

_Christ. _He should walk away. He should walk away right now.

"Roguey, you big perve!"

"Pot kettle black, sweetie. You're the one who was giving me tips, remember?"

Marie was laughing a little now. That was better. It was easier for him to think about that than her longing for—

Logan shoved that thought away violently, but it was far too late. The image of Marie on her knees with his hands buried in her long, silky hair was burned into his mind.

"Right. About that. Younger guys are definitely at a disadvantage there. Most of them don't know what they're doing and the ones who do are still too excited about having an actual girl that close to their dick to last."

"Not a problem. You know I like older men."

Jubilee snorted. "I know. But you definitely want a younger guy for your first time, Roguey."

"Is that right?"

Logan's lips twitched in amusement. That was Marie's sarcastic warning voice. The one that said she was about half a minute away from giving Jubilee one hell of a smackdown.

"Sure. The older ones can usually only get it up once a night, and if they've been drinking they can't get it up at all. Whiskey dick. They'll pretend they're hot for you in the morning, but that's just them waking up hard because they have to pee. The young ones, though… they can go hard — all night long — even after you've had your mouth all over them..."

There was a long silence.

"Chica?"

"Sounds... good." Marie's voice was strangely flat.

"Oh my God. Are you actually tearing up?"

"Just shut it for a while, huh?"

"Sorry, girl. I was just—"

"I know. Let's just drop it, okay?"

"Sure."

Logan melted away into the trees. Surprise and titillation had given way to something deeper as Marie's unexpected tears betrayed a deep longing for intimacy and touch.

They occasionally spoke candidly about sex, but it had never been like _that_. She'd never shown him that raw nerve. He didn't think she'd meant to show it to her friend, either.

His heart felt heavy.

Sometimes it felt like he was a thousand years old.

And sometimes it felt like time was standing still.

* * *

Up next: **In the Air Tonight**. Marie owes Logan a little chat about a certain erotic subject. The Wolverine isn't in the mood to be put off any longer...


	7. In the Air Tonight

"You still owe me a conversation, darlin'." Enough time had passed now that the longer Logan and Marie waited, the more awkward it got.

"Cheese and rice!" Marie jumped and the book she was reading tumbled to the floor with a soft thump. "You tryin' to scare the life outta me?"

"Nah. Just like rilin' ya up." It made her eyes flash in a way that he particularly enjoyed— a compelling blend of wildness and playful retribution.

She stuck her tongue out at him and curled back up on the loveseat, instinctively inviting him to sit with an absent-minded pat as she tucked her feet back under her. That automatic response of hers always got to him. People generally didn't want him close, and if they did it was because they wanted something from him. A fight. A fuck. Sometimes both. Marie genuinely enjoyed his company and that was a rare thing, indeed.

As he sat, his weight dipped the cushions and he enjoyed the easy way she cozied up against his side. Her smile was warm and welcoming. He noted with satisfaction the soft rise and fall of her chest as she breathed in his scent and snuggled closer without realizing it. "What's up, sugar?"

"Just checkin' in. You haven't been down to the house in a coupla weeks." It was difficult to see, and feel, her pressed up against him without thinking about the intimate conversation he'd recently overheard between her and Jubilee. He tried, unsuccessfully, to put Marie's curiosity and longing to put her mouth on a man from his mind.

It didn't help that he'd read her stories. Now he not only knew what she fantasized about and what she liked; he also knew — in graphic detail — just _how _she liked it. Or rather how she _imagined_ liking it. Logan couldn't help wondering how closely her fantasy would resemble reality, given the opportunity.

Maybe it was on her mind, too, and that's why she'd stayed away. He wasn't sure how he felt about that idea. She knew her scent gave away a lot. That had never kept her away before, but everything was different now. He was definitely on board with her thoughts about him heading in that general direction, but he didn't want that to keep her from coming to him.

Quite the opposite.

"I'm not avoiding you. I'm avoiding alcohol."

"Huh?" He wasn't following.

"I got very wasted with Jubes and Gambit. It'll be a while before I feel like tying one on again, sugar, and that conversation is definitely going to require that I have my drunk on, at least a little."

That made more sense. He'd been worried maybe her talk with Jubilee had stirred up something serious. He was glad it was just that.

"Fair enough." He stroked her hair softly. "Come by though and we'll have a different conversation. That ain't the only one I wanna have with ya. I miss ya, kid."

"Aww…"

"And I can't decide about the appliances - black or stainless," he added, just to shine her on a little.

She smacked his chest.

"You're hopeless," she mumbled as he tucked her into his side and wrapped his arm around her.

"I reckon so." Something in him settled as she put her head on his shoulder. It was intimate, but sweet rather than romantic. She craved touch and he liked giving her as much as he could get away with. "But what does that say about you, huh?"

"Me?"

"Yeah, you. You know what I mean." She did. It was his way of acknowledging he knew her writing was largely about him. For someone so 'hopeless', he'd sure inspired a lot of explicit stories.

"Well, nobody's ever accused me of havin' good taste, sugar. Especially in men."

He grunted in amusement.

"I like it just fine." A statement that was probably as close to open as the two of them had ever been regarding this particular subject. It wasn't quite an overture, but it wasn't exactly platonic, either.

Things were changing. With every day that passed, and every conversation they had, the lines they'd drawn in the sand were moved. Redrawn. Reshaped to reflect the No Man's Land they'd stumbled into. More than friends but not yet lovers. The words she'd written on a page didn't guarantee that happening. Sometimes fantasies were better left ephemeral.

Reading them had made Logan feel differently. He knew her in a way he didn't before. Not physically, but emotionally. Giving him that glimpse into her head was a big deal. Experiencing her intimate dreams and desires had changed him. The resulting orgasms had, too. Neither of those things could be undone. They had to find a new way forward.

"Yeah?"

"Yep." He gave her a little squeeze with the arm he had around her. "An' when you're ready, we needta talk about whatcha wrote."

"I know." There was a smile on her face but trepidation in her words and her brows had drawn together. Classic Marie-signs she was deep in thought.

"You don't gotta be scared, kid."

"I'm not. Just worried it'll screw this up." She sighed softly and melted into his side a little more.

"Nah. S'all good." He stroked her hair one last time and stood.

"Glad to hear it." Marie picked up her book from the floor as he turned to go.

He stopped at the door. "Whatcha did? That took some guts. S'good you took that bull by the horns." He couldn't. He'd resolved long ago not to push her into anything physical, even if parts of him were wild to possess her in ways most men couldn't even imagine. It had to be on her. "I'm glad ya did. Glad you wanted me to read that. Just don't be weird about it, huh?"

She smiled. "I'll try."

"Makes us more even."

"Even?"

"You got a lotta me up there from before." She had so much of him in her head. "Now I have somea you."

"Even," she whispered, understanding now.

"Even."

Even was a good, solid word. They couldn't go forward until they were even. It wouldn't work if they were unequal. The balance of power couldn't be weighted too heavily in his favor. It had been like that for a long time and it made him uncomfortable. Made him feel like he was taking advantage, even when he knew she wanted it. That was changing now. Slowly. And for as painful as it was, it was also a good thing. Heavy, but good.

In the wake of his departure, Marie felt the need to lighten the mood a little. Logan was already down the hall when she yelled through the wall, "Stainless!"

She knew he'd hear.

His answering chuckle told her she was right.

* * *

Up next: **Appetite for Destruction**. The return of Jubes (and her mouth). Jubilee has a peace offering. Marie has a fantasy. Logan has, uh, coffee... ;)


	8. Appetite for Destruction

"Hey! What's shakin', bacon?"

"Geez, Jubes!" Marie set the coffee pot down with a rattle. "Let a body wake up a little first, huh? It's too early for sneak attacks."

"I wish Remy could hear you say that. He thinks I'm hopeless at being stealthy. I freely admit that I could climb that man like a tree, but we both know he's so full of crap his eyes should be brown instead of red and black."

"Ew!"

Jubilee crossed the kitchen and eyed the battered Mr. Coffee with a critical expression. "Forget that nasty stuff. Coffee should never, _ever_ come from a can." She nodded to the old coffee maker that was spitting a little on the counter as it brewed a new pot. "You'd think with as loaded as the Professor was, he could have at least sprung for a Keurig somewhere along the way. I mean, really! How the hell are we supposed to suit up and save the world without being properly caffeinated first? That's all kinds of wrong."

It all came out in a big rush. God. Did she even breathe? Marie wondered just how many coffees Jubilee had already downed this morning, but she still laughed in spite of herself.

"Jubes, is there a point here somewhere besides your freakish need to mainline espresso?"

"Abso-friggin'-lutely. And it's a talent, not a need. But whateves." She pressed white paper cup into Marie's hand. The steam was fragrant and smelled divine. "I brought you a peace offering. A pumpkin spice latte with extra whip."

"Mmm… Thanks." Jubilee had long ago drunk the Starbucks koolaid. She was fully indoctrinated. It was hard to fault her shameless infatuation with overpriced coffees when she came bearing them as gifts, however. Marie took a sip and sighed with pleasure. Maybe Jubes did have a small point about good coffee. "Peace offering?"

"For the other day…? I know how I am, my mouth should be a registered weapon of mass destruction, but I didn't mean to make you cry, you know? We're compadres, amigos! Besties. Makers of cookies, epic practical jokes and—"

"Trouble?" Marie teased, taking another sip.

"Well, yeah." The firecracker's eyes sparkled with mischief.

Both of them were on the wild side, reckless and prone to making impulsive decisions that frequently began well and ended... messily. The difference was that Jubilee just sort of found herself in difficult situations at random and was often surprised by the outcome. The Rogue chose to be there, knowing full well what was coming. Logan was loud in her mind at those times.

_If you wanna play rough, you gotta be tough. _

"S'all good, Juby. It's just sometimes it gets to me."

"Sorry, girl."

"It's not your fault."

"Don't take this the wrong way, chica…. but maybe if you just _told_ him?"

"It's not like that and you know it."

"I guess with age doesn't always come wisdom, huh?"

"You said it, sister."

"Maybe you need a new resolution this year?"

"Maybe."

"Or he does."

"Amen to that."

"We still on for watching the ball drop in Times Square?"

"You bet." Marie wordlessly claimed a stool, her heel hooked on the bottom rung as she wrapped her hands around the warm paper cup.

Jubilee picked at a muffin from the basket on the island while Marie drank her coffee. The silence was easier than it had been in a long time.

"So, what exactly did you mean when you said you probably think about oral too much?" Jubilee had never been good with long silences. Her brain raced too much not to fill them with idle chatter. The feeling was even harder to suppress when she had a burning question.

"Jubes…"

"Hey, you're caffeinated now, so get on it with. Inquiring minds wanna know."

"You can't work that one out for yourself?"

"Hey, your 'too much' and my 'too much' might be two entirely different things. Just sayin'."

Marie considered that.

"I was just thinking about it, actually."

"You were not."

"Yep. As I was fixin' to pour my coffee. Word of honor."

"What you could possibly find inspiring _here_? It's not exactly Nine and Half Weeks territory." Jubilee scanned the kitchen with a look somewhere between apathy and condemnation before settling at the island.

"I was sorta thinking about coming in while he was pouring his coffee... Not _here_, here. His place or my place."

"If you had a place."

"Hey, it's a fantasy, right?"

"True. Carry on…"

"So I was thinking maybe it's like the mornin' after we just… you know, and—"

"Bonus points for imagining you could even walk after a pounding like that. What? Don't give me that look. We both know there's no way he'd be able to keep the animal in if you ever gave him the green light to Nookietown, but go ahead, girl. It's a fantasy, like you said…"

"You forgotten he heals?"

"Hey, that's him, not you, babe."

"You forgotten what my skin can do?"

The truth hung between them starkly. There was nothing Logan could do to her that she couldn't heal afterwards with just the lightest of touches… provided she wanted to. The idea of feeling the physical echoes of their lovemaking the morning after appealed to a girl who had been denied touch for years. Maybe a part of her needed tangible proof that someone had wanted her, deadly skin and all.

Jubilee turned that one over. "Oh my God!" Her eyes were wide. "That's…" for once, she was speechless.

"Don't judge. You know as well as I do that when you can't have something, you want as much of it as possible."

"Damn, chica. That's pretty full-on. I guess you're The Rogue for real now, huh?"

Marie wasn't so sure. In some ways, she felt like she'd always been The Rogue, even before she'd manifested. It fit better every day. "Always." There were some things still too personal to share.

"So exactly how does your morning after fantasy fit in here? Because I'm still not seeing how we go from bad coffee to oral?"

Marie snorted. "That's kinda the point. I come in and catch his eye while he's making coffee in just his jeans, and I sort of just slip up next to him and tug his buckle and whisper to him: 'Can I? With my mouth?' And then I do. Right there against the cabinets. Fast and a little wild."

"Whoa."

"Yep. Rock his world, bigtime. The coffee he just poured would still be steaming when I handed it back to him. I was thinking it would be crazy hot and kinda sweet to see him leaning back against the counter, looking mostly satisfied — but kinda surprised, too."

Jubilee was a little surprised as well. The Rogue she knew was a little wild, but not like _that_, and she rarely gave up such personal details. She wondered what other secrets lay hidden under the surface.

"That would definitely, _definitely_ blow his mind... among other things."

"Hey, it's just a pipedream. There's no reason to get excited."

"Not get excited? You have met me, right?" Jubilee's voice grew uncharacteristically soft. "It doesn't have to be only him, you know. There are lots of fish in the sea and most of them would kill for that kinda wakeup call."

"Imagination is one thing. Real life is totally different."

"You didn't do that for the Bobsicle?"

"What? No! There's only one man I want to do that with." _With_ not _for_. It was a subtle distinction that was entirely lost on Jubilee.

"Damn, girl. Doesn't that torch ever get heavy? It's gotta weigh a fuckton by now."

"Sure. Maybe someday I'll change my mind. Or at least grow up enough to let that dream go and think about that kinda stuff with someone else."

"Fuck!" In the adjacent mudroom, Logan slammed the door of the electrical box shut with a low growl.

"Logan?" Storm's voice was half concern and half censure. She didn't approve of his language, but a man with metal his his body and his hand in an ancient power box was making her jumpy.

Logan grimaced. 'Ro couldn't hear the girls talking in the kitchen next door, but he could as clearly as if they were standing right beside him.

Goddamn women. He needed some space before he clawed something. Or someone. The firecracker was first on the list. Storm's hovering wasn't endearing her to him much, either.

"This old box is a shit show. Gonna hit the hardware store. Need some parts and I was goin' today to check out appliances for the house anyway."

He mentally added a coffee pot to the top of the list.

* * *

Up Next: **She Drives Me Crazy**. You can only push the Wolverine so far before he snaps...


	9. She Drives Me Crazy

Marie heard the door to her room open. "Ugh. Go away. I have the plague."

Logan strode in with a tray and kicked the door shut behind him. "So? Ain't gonna hurt me none."

He set the tray down beside the bed and helped her sit. She had the flu and looked miserable. "Here, darlin'. Drink this."

Marie sniffed at it feebly. "What is it?"

"Dunno. Some shit Hank whipped up for ya. Smells like lemons." And medicine. "He said it would help." She'd been down four days and it looked like it had been pretty rough.

"If I drink it would you go away and just let me die in peace?"

He chuckled. "I might."

It took a few minutes for her to drink down the steaming mug. The heat helped open up her head and the lemon soothed her throat. Whatever was in it, she felt all warm and drifty and pleasantly detached from her body.

"I have to pee," she finally said. "And I want a bath." She was too unsteady to stand in the shower. "And it really sucks that I missed going out on New Year's with Jubes. We were gonna do Times Square. I hate being sick." She felt awful and she could smell herself. She couldn't imagine how bad it must be for Logan. "I stink." She really wanted a bath but was pretty sure she was too shaky to make it there under her own steam. All she'd been able to manage for two days was crawling to the bathroom to pee.

"Nah. It ain't that bad." She smelled unwell, but she also smelled like herself, just more strongly. It wasn't wholly unpleasant. "You want me to get someone to help ya?"

"No. I'll manage. Everyone's afraid of my skin. The only person who could do it is Hank and I really don't want him seeing my, uh, naked parts."

"He's a doctor." Logan was actually pretty proud for getting that out of his mouth because what had gone through his head was _'Damn straight. You're mine and nobody sees you naked but me.'_ But it wasn't the time or the place, and maybe it never would be, so he just gave her a soft smile. "There's me."

"Ah, no."

"It's nothin', kid."

"It's a big thing."

As it turned out, they were both right. With a minimum of fuss and blushing and a borrowed pair of gloves, Logan had her in and out of the bath, dressed in new pajamas, and tucked back into a freshly made bed in under half an hour. The bath had roused her slightly, but the medicine had kicked in and she was a little loopy.

"Better now, darlin'?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

"I'm gonna take off then." He needed to get in the wind. Taking care of her intimately felt good, felt right, but it wasn't without repercussions. He was wound too tight.

He'd washed her, bathed her, and dressed her, pushing her arms into her clothes like a child. He didn't leer at her, but he's a man. He looked. Full breasts. Raspberry nipples. Dark curls between her legs. A flash of hidden pink inside. Miles of milky white skin. He'd definitely looked.

"No. Stay and talk with me a little," she pleaded.

"If you want." She'd be out soon anyway. Her eyes were already heavy.

He sunk into a chair by the bed and stretched out his long legs.

"What's on your mind tonight, sugar?"

_Sex._

_Wet, soapy, vigorous bathtub sex with water sloshing on the floor and pink, wet skin that was slick and soft and tight. _

"Nothin'."

_Pebbled, aching nipples under his fingers and against his chest. Her round ass in his hands. Teeth marks. Laughter. Lust so sharp he could taste it. _

"Nothing?"

_Coming deep inside her in hot, wet spurts. Those sweet, delicate folds stretched obscenely on his girth while she shook and screamed and dug her nails into him. _

"Kitchen counters. Tile or polished concrete? Both 'er good." He was grasping.

_Shouts echoing off the tile, wrinkled toes and fingers, and his come trickling down the inside of her leg when all was said and done. Christ. He was gonna lose it any minute now._

"Granite. Something dark to set off the maple cabinets."

"Pricey stuff." He couldn't stop thinking about what he'd seen. The glimpse of rose pink he'd caught between her legs as he knelt to towel her dry. How soft she had been under his touch.

_Jesus. _She was killing him. The scent had been even more enticing than the view. He'd wanted to follow his nose, to press his face against the source of that warm, seductive scent and make her come on his mouth.

"Pricey, yeah. But worth it. And the kitchen is small."

_Legs open wide. Body twisting. His fingers pressed deep to feel her shudder and clench as she rocked back and forth against his tongue. A sharp pull in his hair as a rough shove of glossy fingers and a firm suck pushed her over. _

"Hmph."

_Her sultry voice, rising on a wail and breaking on his name._

_Oh fuck. _

"You didn't ask me what I was thinking about," she said into the thick silence.

A rumble shook his chest. "Whatcha got on deck tonight?" He couldn't take much more of this. Her scent was all over his hands. So thick and sweet and maddening. If he was alone, he'd put one to his face and the other in his pants.

"Playboy. Or is it still Hustler?"

_Shit._

He did not have the patience for this right now.

"Penthouse. But just for the letters," he shot back. He was trying, he really was, but he felt like a pyromaniac with a match who'd been told to behave.

"Bet you won't need that tonight."

"Marie-" she was not wrong, but this was skating too close to the line of taking advantage for his comfort.

"I'm not drunk or high or out of my head with fever. I'm just a little under the weather, so you can take that guilty conscience and claw it in the ass."

He chuckled. There was his girl. All fire and sass and…. softness when it came to looking out for him. "Yes, ma'am."

"Do you even read the letters?"

"I did this time," he said cryptically.

"Why?"

He shrugged. "Comparison." There went the match, struck brightly in the darkness.

"Oh." He waited while her foggy brain worked that one through. "OH!"

"What you wrote was better." By a hundred thousand miles. He was going to light the world on fire, and soon after it would burn down around his ears. He really needed to leave.

"Thanks."

"It's just I'm not really up for that conversation tonight, baby." He was up for something. It just wasn't conversation.

He needed to come, hard and loud.

"Me either. I'm just glad it's not weird. I just wanted to test it out a little."

"No problem."

"See, it's not so bad with the words, is it?"

"Nah. Though I seem to remember you sayin' somethin' about other things gettin' a look-in as well from time to time." A flame to tinder. There it went. He was so fucked.

"I did. That's right."

"You gonna tell me what you meant by that?"

"You curious?"

"Hell, yes." Curious and stupid. All the blood had left his brain.

"Audio files mostly."

"Audio files?" He'd not expected that. "Like recordings of people havin' sex?"

"Or having sex by themselves. Either way."

"That's—"

"Weird, I know."

"Hot. I was gonna say, hot." Hot? He was on fire.

"I'm not sure why, but listening to those kinda sounds really lights my flame. Once I even came without touching myself at all." That came out in the softest whisper. Okay, maybe she was a little out of it, after all. She'd never have admitted that otherwise.

_Oh, God._

Logan's eyes were hooded and dark and there was something in them she'd never seen before. Something hungry and wild and on the very edge of controlled.

"Ah, Christ." He scrubbed a hand over his face and fought down a thousand inappropriate responses. Even as he did, a piece of his heart went out to her. She was clearly desperate for touch, strung so tightly that even the sound of sex was enough to send her over. Another, more base and selfish part of him was reveling in the wonder of that little confession. It spoke to the passion locked within her. Her skin was so sensitive. Few women could orgasm without physical stimulation. Sex with her would be incandescent.

He forced that thought down hard.

"Logan?"

"Yeah, kid?"

"I lied before. I do know why. It's because when it's just the sounds, I can close my eyes and make it be anyone. Anyone I want." His eyes, so black and wanting, flicked to hers.

She did not look away.

A different sort of growl than she'd ever heard rumbled low in his chest.

He stood up so fast the chair fell over backwards.

Marie's eyes widened. The size of his erection was obscene.

"I needta go."

If he stayed, he was going to climb into her bed, pull down those sweet little panties and make her scream.

"Logan?"

"Now."

He wasn't kidding. He turned on his heel and melted away.

* * *

Up next: **Nasty**. The Wolverine, rude, crude, and honest...


	10. Nasty

Weeks passed before Marie got the chance to talk to really talk with Logan again. She found him by the fire pit, a cigar in his hand as he stared up at the moon from under his old straw cowboy hat. The bottle of bourbon beside him only had a few inches left at the bottom.

It was late. Midnight had come and gone. The night was cold and clear. The still, quiet world glittered with silvery frost that made the serene place feel otherworldly. Logan had built a huge fire. The flames danced wildly, on the edge of out of control, licking up into the night sky, a hungry riot of red and gold.

She dropped onto the opposite bench, grimacing as the frosty seat made her shiver hard enough that her nipples drew up into tight points under her thick coat and scarf. "God! It's cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey out here!" Her eyes danced. "How they hangin', sugar?"

Logan blew a stream of smoke into the sky, his face hidden by the brim of his hat. "Go 'way, kid. I ain't in the mood."

Her sharp eye assessed the situation. She knew Logan and his moods pretty well. He was surly and mean, but tonight his brooding was closer to grumpy than outright rage. Marie considered her options and then shrugged. "Well, I don't give a shit. I can't listen to another minute of Jubes telling me how amazingly hot Remy's cock is and how good he is at using it. She's completely dickmatized." Remy had finally gotten into Jubilee's pants and Jubes couldn't be happier. Marie, on the other hand, had reached her saturation point. Jubes had a tendency to overshare on a good day.

Logan snorted.

"Go ahead and claw me if you wanna, but I'm stayin'. That would be less painful than hearing chapter and verse of Jubes' sex life."

"Can't be that bad. Could even be fun under the right circumstances."

She couldn't tell if he'd said that just to be contradictory because he was in a bad mood, or because he was trying to get a rise out of her.

"Maybe _you_ want to hear about how Remy tastes and how he likes his cock sucked and how he likes her to suck his fingers after he's just—" Marie stopped mid-word at the look on Logan's face.

"Jesus."

"Sorry. I'm a little drunk still. It took three shots just to drown out the worst of it. When I finally escaped, I thought maybe a walk would help clear my head and then I saw the glow of the fire." It really was on the edge of scary big.

"Fine. Stay. But I'm warnin' ya, I'm in a pissy mood."

"Grump away, sugar. I couldn't care less. You can say whatever you want to as long as it isn't about Remy. Because I swear to God, if you do... I will take this glove off and touch you until you scream."

Fire licked up his spine. He knew she didn't mean it the way it sounded, but it had come out sounding damned good.

"You're welcome to try," he said offhandedly, the cigar clamped between his teeth. He was on the edge.

"What's eating you tonight?"

He gave her a hard look.

"Fine. Don't talk if you don't want to. I was only askin' to be polite. I'm all talked out anyway."

Perversely, that made him want to answer when he'd had no intention of doing so.

"There was this woman."

Marie rolled her eyes. "There always is." Wherever he was, there were always women. It was a part of what made things between them so confusing. Sometimes it felt like he was interested in her as a woman, and other times she felt like an obligation; something he'd promised to take care of. He flirted with her, sure, and they were very close, but there had always been women. He'd never bragged about it, but he'd never hidden it either. It wasn't in his nature to hide what came naturally. He rarely acknowledged them to her, however, and that he did so tonight made her aware he was much closer to the edge than she'd first thought.

"It was after the fights-"

"You were fighting tonight?"

Tonight. Last night. A lot of nights since he'd bathed her and tucked her into bed. That had woken something in him that he didn't know how to put out.

"Yeah." He'd needed the outlet. Needed to feel the heavy concussion of flesh impacting flesh and the satisfying crunch of bone. He'd wanted the sweat and the pain and the bloodlust of the crowd... and the adoration of jaded women who only wanted him for the fleeting pleasure he could give them. And the physical relief they could give him. It wasn't pretty, but it was the truth.

It was her turn to give him a hard look. She'd been asking him forever to take her along when he fought and he'd steadfastly refused. It was unusual in that he almost always gave her what she asked for. Except that.

"Anyway," he said, with more than a little vitriol, "I'd asked her if she wanted some air."

Which was Loganese for: We hit it off at the bar and decided to take things out back to get better acquainted.

Marie hated that it annoyed her as much as it turned her on. Logan was a very sexual person. He liked sex, and had a lot of it. She liked the idea of him wanting that much sex, she just wished he wanted it a little closer to home. It was confusing to be both jealous and aroused by his confession.

"Charming."

"She thought so." An arrogant smirk pulled at his sensual lips.

"I didn't come all this way in the cold to trade one cock story for another."

He grunted. He'd never much liked it when she was overtly crude.

Marie huffed. Tonight that was just too damned bad for him. She'd had enough.

Logan stared at her. She was nothing like those other women. It wasn't that he wanted her to remain pure and untouched forever. On the contrary, they were closer now that she'd gotten a little life all over her. He liked the miles she'd put on. What he didn't care for was the distance, the jaded cynicism without the underlying tenderness she usually had for him.

The tip of his cigar glowed red and Marie smiled, aware he was taking in a deep breath of the calming tobacco. She'd always taken a bizarre pleasure in the knowledge that she could get under his skin like nobody else.

"Things were goin' pretty good," and by pretty good, he meant hard and fast up against a wall with her nails in his back and his fist in her hair, "Right up until we were interrupted. She didn't wanna after that."

"It wasn't some jerk from the cage again, was it?"

He chuckled, pleased that of all the ways she could have responded, her first thought was to be sure he was safe. That felt good, even if her scent also said she was itching to slap him for being such an ass.

"Nah, it wasn't like that. It was just the little barmaid on her smoke break."

"Come on, you can't really blame her for not being into it after that."

He shrugged. "Didn't bother me none."

"Well, if it were me in that situation, I would've—" she stopped mid-word, suddenly aware if she ever had that chance with him, she wouldn't have cared about anything outside the circle of his arms. She would have kept going even with an audience; not because she was desperate to be with him, but because she knew what they found together would be incendiary.

A blush rose, sweeping through her hotly. It suddenly occurred to her that she'd even written a story like that. He'd likely read it. She'd never used names or identifying details, but Logan was a sharp man and it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that a great many of her stories were about him.

"You ain't that kinda person, kid." He was emphatic.

"I- I don't know about that. I think it would depend on the man I was with. I'm not big on restraint if I want something. You know that. If it felt right, I'd do it." She'd always been that way. Her plans to visit Alaska. Running away from home. Crawling in his trailer. Even sitting with him now. When her heart said leap, she leapt, even if she hadn't looked (even a little bit) first.

"The watchin' or the bein' watched?" He was being deliberately obtuse. The idea of taking Marie like that was making him hard. The idea of someone else taking her that way was making him want to inflict pain. He smiled darkly. "I ain't shy. Both do it for me."

"Logan!"

"I warned ya, darlin'. S'on you for stayin'."

Her full mouth thinned into a line of displeasure but he noticed, with some amusement, that she didn't leave. Her face said one thing, but her scent was saying something else. He was surprised, and more than a little turned on. Normally he'd have just let it slide, but the animal was still riding him hard. Fighting and women usually took the edge off a little, but not tonight. Tonight her flash of vulnerability only engaged the predator and his desire to play, to push a boundary he normally steered well clear of.

"Watchin' or bein' watched?" he said again, just to see the fire in her grow hotter. It was all just words anyway. What was the harm? She wasn't ready to initiate anything. He wasn't sure she even wanted to. Not really. He wasn't even sure what he'd do if she did. This strange limbo they were in was driving them both crazy.

"I wouldn't know, seeing as how I haven't done either," she replied tartly. "Sounds fun though. I'll have to give 'em both a whirl and get back to ya."

Shit. Too far. She was all bristly now, despite what her scent was telling him. More disturbing still was that he was enjoying it.

They fell quiet, the frosty silence only broken by the popping and sputtering of the fire.

"Which do_ you_ like better, sugar?"

Heat rolled through him. He thought she'd retreated. It was a miscalculation on his part. She was only rallying the troops for round two. His brow arched. He knew it wasn't right, that he shouldn't be fucking around with this particular line in the sand, but he couldn't stop himself.

Something dark burned in his hooded eyes. "Watchin'."

"How come?"

A low growl resonated in his chest.

Marie realized she must be a little more tipsy than she thought, because baiting the Wolverine in this mood was probably one of the more stupid things she'd ever done, and that list was pretty long already.

A dark look of pleasure spread across his face. "'Cause it's like watchin' porn, but better." While Logan appreciated the convenience of modern pornography, it lacked the layers that someone with his unique physicality and enhanced senses enjoyed.

"Better how?" She was definitely skating on thin ice, but she couldn't quite seem to stop herself. She could feel her heart beating wildly. There was little doubt he could hear it.

"Hotter. More for the senses to enjoy." His teeth flashed in the dark. "You said you liked listenin'. Imagine if instead of a tinny recordin', you were hearin' it live. Then it's not just in your ear, it's all over. That bass rumble of the voice vibratin' over your whole skin and makin' you shiver. Feelin' the grunts insteada just hearin' 'em. Seein' 'em writhe. Smellin' the musk."

Her eyes were very round and her scent had gone from interested to, _Oh hell, yes! _Just the tickle of that glossy heat in his nose was making it hard to keep the wildness contained.

"I... that, um..." He thought he'd pushed hard enough that she'd tuck tail and run. She would if she had any damn sense at all. "That sounds good, actually. Really good."

Ah, Christ. She'd always been a little hellcat. 'Rogue' suited her very well and he realized she was growing into that woman a little more every day. He was a little melancholy, too. It meant a little more of Marie, of the part of her that was truly his, was slipping away.

The more she thought about it, the better it sounded. Marie probably wouldn't have admitted it to him without the burn of tequila in her blood, but the idea was really beginning to turn her on.

"Yeah?" Nodding and blushing but very interested now. That was unexpected and he couldn't help but respond. "There's places to go for that kinda thing."

"What? Like Richard and Kitty's roadside whack shack?"

That time the amusement touched his eyes, too. "Nah, kid. Not a dirty hole-in-the-wall like that. There's swanky places for that stuff too."

"What, like a sex club?"

"Yeah."

"You go to sex clubs?" She was shocked. Shocked and... fascinated.

"Darlin', I'm a hard man on a hard road. There ain't too many places I haven't been."

"Why?" He wasn't the sort of man who needed to pay for it. She'd been out with Logan many times. He just had that _thing_, that aura of power women could just sense. The way they threw themselves at him was kind of embarrassing. Especially because she felt it, too.

He chuckled. "Same reason as everyone else." Her eyebrows were almost at her hairline. "S'fun." Logan caught her eye. "You're askin' a lotta questions. Seem pretty curious."

"I, um..."

"I'll take ya if you wanna go."

"What? With _you_? To a sex club?" Marie wasn't entirely sure she hadn't entered some altered reality where Logan thought of her as a woman and not a friend.

"Sure, why not?" He couldn't pretend his motives were entirely altruistic. The idea of watching Marie watch a sex act was already making his blood run hot... but he was thinking about her too. If she really was going to be incapable of physical human contact for the rest of her life, she'd need an outlet like that. Better her first tentative steps in that world happen with him at her side than scared and alone down the road. He honestly hoped it would never come to that. He had his own ideas about the future, but he wasn't so selfish that he wouldn't give her that experience if she wanted it.

"To do what?" She was feeling dizzy and her voice was too high.

"To watch." Just watch. He could manage that much. Probably.

"Uh..." She just could not pull it together. Marie couldn't help but imagine he must think she was an idiot.

"Afraid you might like it?"

"Afraid I might kill someone."

"By watchin'?" he scoffed. His tone was teasing, but she was painfully aware he was putting down a very clear boundary. He'd take her there to watch. Not to do anything else.

"My skin..."

"Ain't a problem. There's a no touchin' rule."

"No touching? In a sex club? Doesn't that sort of defeat the purpose?"

"Heh." Her confusion pulled him back from the edge, from the darkness just a little. "No touchin' without permission. You could walk in without a stitch on, and nobody would lay so much as a finger onya unless you let 'em." He let that sink in. "'Course, I wouldn't recommend that." He put the claws out with a black smile, turning them so they gleamed in the firelight.

"Oh!"

He put the claws in and licked the trace of blood left behind on his knuckles absently.

The urge to kiss him, to taste that little copper flash on his tongue rolled through her hard and strong. She looked away before he could see it.

"So, whatcha say, darlin'?"

"I say you were right. You're in a mood tonight. I'm gonna bounce."

"Suit yourself, baby."

He smiled as he watched her melt away through the trees, very aware she hadn't told him no.

* * *

Up next: **Girls Just Wanna Have Fun**. The Wolverine threw down the gauntlet. The Rogue picks it up…


	11. Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

Marie was back at Logan's a few weeks later. She hadn't meant to come. It had happened without conscious thought. All she'd wanted was some air, some space from the claustrophobic feeling the mansion and its residents sometimes inspired. These days her feet seemed to be on autopilot, and what had started out as a walk across the grounds to clear her head had ended up at Logan's door.

She'd seen him several times up at the school over the last few weeks, although that atmosphere didn't much lend itself to talking freely. She missed the way he was with her here. He had a fire going inside and a warm light spilled out of the windows invitingly. The scent of wood smoke was heavy in the still air and the damp afternoon had chilled her to the bone. The tight grip of winter had eased. This was the first thaw, the first significant upwards bump in temperature they'd had in a long time. Winter probably had a few last snowfalls and cold snaps for them, but the dripping dampness signaled that spring wasn't too far away.

"Hey, kid. You gonna come in or stand on the porch all night?" Logan's voice rumbled through the closed door.

"I don't know."

"There's pizza and beer in here. Just sayin'."

That didn't surprise her. She'd gone with him earlier this week to choose a television and was well aware a pizza and beer night would soon follow.

"Flames-Rangers game too?" Her desire to watch it was what had indirectly led to her little walkabout this evening.

"C'mon in and find out for yourself."

Rolling her eyes, Marie let herself in, toed off her muddy boots by the door and sat down on the floor next to Logan. He had a very nice flat screen TV and no couch. It made her smile. There was an exquisitely thick, massive bearskin rug, however. Dark and silky. She'd asked him about it a week ago.

"Where did you get this, sugar? It's gorgeous."

He'd given her a hard look. "I don't buy furs, darlin'." He was insulted by the question. "I _hunt_."

Her sensual enjoyment of the soft pelt went a long way toward soothing his ruffled feathers. She'd stroked it lightly at first, and then seduced by the sleek feel, she'd sunk her fingers in deep, humming out her pleasure. Her cheek had followed her fingers; a slow sensual glide that eventually became a full-body stretch as she indulged in the shamelessly tactile sensation of the thick fur against her skin. The resulting tickle had made her laugh aloud. He'd chuckled at her sheer hedonism, but it had also made his blood burn.

"Grizzly?"

"Nah. Kodiak. They're a little bigger and a heap meaner. I don't normally hunt bears. S'too much meat for just one man, but the bastard triedta take my kill." He'd enjoyed that fight. He could feel the smile on his face even now, remembering how hard he'd had to work at winning. He'd skinned it and paid for it to be tanned the last time he'd been up north. The tannery had mailed it to the mansion more than a year ago. And there it had sat, waiting for this moment.

It felt good to sit on it with Marie now. It was hardly the first time he'd imagined her on it, though a great many of those were less platonic than this friendly meal.

There was something about the feel of the pelt against his skin that brought his more primal instincts to the fore. Perhaps it was due to the violent way he'd acquired it. He'd fought and bled and eventually triumphed over a worthy challenger, proudly roaring his primacy into the coming night. It felt good under him, too. Thick and soft with a lingering spice that spoke of freedom and wildness and places untamed and untouched by men.

Wolverine's thoughts were tangled with his own, a wild snarl of lust and possession. The images in his head were not soft or gentle. When he had her here in his mind, it was without rules or boundaries. The limits set by men had no place between them. Their joining was elemental. Savage. Sometimes brutal. In his fantasies, she was just as wild; meeting him as an equal, a partner in his fierce possession of his mate.

In Logan's mind, she was always naked here. Smiling at him, those red full lips wet from his kiss. Her hair was down, big and messy around her face. He'd never been very good about controlling that urge to put his hands in her hair. Her skin was flushed with pleasure and her body was warm and soft under his as they moved together.

The Wolverine's vision was more crude, but no less honest. His mouth, slick and glistening with her scent. Her mewls and grunts of pleasure as her skin slid against his, slick with sweat and saliva. His body thrusting heavily into hers from behind as his orgasm rose. It was not the first one. Trickles of pearly fluid dripped down her spread thighs as she moaned and thrashed under him, forcing herself back on him. She keened and shook as he filled her again. And again. And again.

The images flashed so sharply in his head that it was difficult for Logan to shake them away and stay in the present. The fur carried both their scents now and he felt a deep contentment as she sat beside him, absently stroking the soft pelt. He'd been thinking of this moment even as he'd skinned it. Such a simple pleasure. The pair of them enjoying it together. It was strange when life so precisely matched imagination. He slid one of the pizza boxes over her way with his foot.

"Mmm… smells good, sugar. Meat lovers'?"

"Yep. Molson and Sam Adams in the fridge. Bring me another while you're in there."

"Subtle." She retrieved the beers and sat back down. Logan smiled inwardly as she opened the box and took the biggest slice. He'd never seen someone so small eat so much. He liked it. Clearly that appetite was indicative of the size of her other appetites as well.

She seemed off tonight. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something there in the way she moved and the expression on her face. "What's up?"

Marie shrugged. "Same-old same-old." She took another slice. "What's the score?"

"One-nothin', Rangers."

"That sucks. Did I miss any fights?"

"Yep. A real good bloody one. Haven't seen one like that in a while. Game stopper." His teeth flashed.

"Really? Dammit. I just can't catch a break tonight."

He let that slide. He knew Marie well enough to know she wouldn't tell him anything if he pushed too hard right out of the gate. It had to be in her own time. The next time there was a break in the action, he got the beers and they watched in silence for most of the second period. She finally started talking beyond monosyllabic grunts towards the end of the game. Her scent was off and he put her somewhere between restless and mopey.

"What's up with you tonight, kid?"

"Nothing."

"Don't do that. That ain't how we are." She'd always been a straight shooter with him. It was waning as she got older. She held back more, held her cards closer. The tighter he held onto it, the faster it seemed to slip away.

He thought that would just earn him another moody shrug. Instead she rounded on him, fire in her eyes. "Is it? Is that what you give me? The truth, straight up - no chaser? 'Cause it sure doesn't feel that way from where I'm sittin'."

He was a little surprised that she came out swinging, though it made him curious rather than defensive. What the hell was going on with her?

"Hey. I've never lied to you, even when the shit I haveta say ain't the shit you wanna hear." He blinked, aware she was still waiting for an answer. "I give ya what I can," he said quietly, thinking of all the times he'd edited his response because she wasn't ready to hear it.

"Well thank you, Saint Wolverine for anointing me with the holy crumbs from your table."

"Why dontcha tell me what ya really think. Christ." Somewhere along the way she'd started fighting like a woman who'd worked up a good head of mad and not a pissed off kid. He marked it with an internal stick of satisfaction, even if the words themselves pissed him off.

"Sugar, you don't want to know what I really think." He'd been running from that for years. Marie flinched inwardly. That wasn't really the truth. He knew how she felt. Or he'd had a pretty good idea, once upon a time. Back then he'd wanted something else with someone else. Now she had no idea what he wanted - or what he knew. All she knew was that being with him felt good, made her feel warm inside even when it hurt. Like it did tonight.

"Try me." He saw the flash of insecurity on her face and pressed harder, aware on some level it wasn't what either of them really needed. "That whatcha want? Go ahead, kid. Here's your chance. Throw down. Put all your cards on the table. Let's see whatcha got." _I fuckin' dare you. _He barely managed to keep from roaring the words at her. His heart was beating fast. He'd thought this conversation was a long way off. Maybe years.

Marie was silent, staring at him with wide eyes. She didn't like being put on the spot any more than he did. Her mind was reeling. Wasn't this what she'd been waiting for? Her shot to show him she wasn't that little girl anymore? And yet, she couldn't make the words come. She wasn't sure if that meant she wasn't ready to own up to them, or if she wasn't ready to accept the consequences after she did. Until she could work that out, it was probably better to keep them locked away. Even if he was willing, it might end badly and then she'd lose the only real stability she'd ever had. That was a lot for someone like her to risk.

The silence was painfully loud.

It stretched longer. A minute. Three. Five.

"That's what I thought," he said softly, draining his beer. His first assessment had been correct. Not a kid anymore. Not ready to lay her soul bare, either. It made him feel tired. He'd been on this road a long damn time.

"Sorry," she offered.

"You don't hafta be sorry. I shouldn't have pushed ya." _Not ready-not-ready-notready._ That engine was picking up steam again.

"Not that."

"What?" He felt the engine falter a little.

"I'm shitty company tonight. I should have just turned around and gone back instead of inflicting myself on you. It's not your fault. It's mine. I'm just still wound up about something that happened earlier today."

Talking to him usually helped her feel better when she was unbalanced, but this was new, more intimate territory and she felt unsure and embarrassed about sharing it with him. Things were changing between them. He was still her best friend, but lately there was something else. Sometimes it felt like his indulgent Uncle Logan routine was slipping, giving her glimpses of a very different man underneath.

"You okay, darlin'?"

"Yes. No. Um... I'm not sure...?"

"Hey, you can talk me about anythin', you know that." The scent of her embarrassment was strong in his head. "Birds-n-bees, PMS, you name it..."

Marie rolled her eyes at his teasing. "I got my period and the accompanying lecture from my mama when I was eleven, thank you very much."

"Eleven?" The idea that she'd been physically able to have a child for a decade was hard for him to wrap his mind around. How was that even possible when she was barely more than a kid herself?

"Yup. Mother Nature - and the Boob Fairy - both came early to the D'Ancanto household."

"Boob Fairy?"

"From nothing at all to more than a handful the summer before seventh grade. It wasn't pretty."

"Jesus." There was an image he didn't need. He shook his head. She was wrong, too. More than a handful? Not quite, but then he had big hands.

"It gets better. I'd been doing my best to minimize things with tight tank tops under baggy t-shirts all summer. When Mama finally realized what had happened, she didn't even take me bra shopping straight off; she just gave me a few of hers since I'd clearly bypassed the whole training bra stage. They were those old-timey pointy style ones, you know?"

A chuckle rumbled in his chest. "I know whatcha mean." While he could understand her discomfort, he had a particular appreciation for that sort of vintage pinup style.

"It was really startling. From the appearance of nothing to full-on Madonna in her Vogue years in a day, literally. I think I lived in hoodies for a year, even after Gran took pity on me at Thanksgiving and took me shopping for bras that didn't make me look like a pinup girl." That she would choose that word made him feel uncomfortable, like she was looking into his head. Maybe she was on some level. Or maybe it was just coincidence.

The mental picture was beginning to get to him, regardless. Twined with the images from her erotic stories, it was disturbing rather than prurient. This conversation needed to move along. "What lecture did she give ya?"

"You know the one. Always carry extra tampons. Boys only want one thing. Sex is wrong unless you're married and if you touch yourself, you're gonna go to Hell."

"I'll save ya a seat, darlin'."

Marie giggled.

He whistled softly. "That's a lot to lay on someone still in elementary school."

"I know, right? You can imagine how things went when I manifested." That was another of the things they never talked about. He knew she'd kissed a boy and put him in a coma for three weeks and that she'd run away shortly after, but she'd never told him the nuts and bolts of what had transpired between those two events. She hadn't been too forthcoming about what had happened on the road, either.

"Mmph."

Given what she'd just shared with him, it wasn't too hard to imagine how it had all gone down. He felt bad that she'd had to be so tough so young, but he liked the strong woman she'd become because of it. "But all that was a long time ago and none of it excuses my behavior tonight. I was just..."

"What happened that got ya all riled up?"

"You really wanna know?" That was her serious voice. What could she possibly be that worked up over? His curiosity was beginning to slide towards concern.

"Do I look like the kinda man who asks shit he don't want an answer to?" That was especially true tonight. The color in her face and the trepidation in her scent had him fully engaged.

Marie huffed quietly. Logan and his economy of words was well known. Generally he didn't even bother. He had a whole vocabulary of grunts that covered everything from 'you bet' to 'go fuck yourself'. That he'd chosen to open himself to her said a lot, but she wondered if he was really ready for her to do the same.

Nothing had been the same since the night on his deck when she'd texted him her penname. Now when he looked at her, she wondered if he was thinking of her stories. Sometimes it was obvious that he was. She supposed that was only fair. Sometimes when she looked at him, all she could think about was how his hands had felt touching every bit of her the night he'd bathed her. It had been tender rather than salacious, but it had been thorough, too.

And just when they'd begun to get their equilibrium back, he'd opened Pandora's box on a frosty night as a bonfire licked hotly into the darkness. Watching. Being watched. And a shocking invitation to a sex club that had disturbed and aroused her. That night she'd slipped a hand under her in the small confines of her bed, thinking about his hands on her body as she arched and shuddered and bit her lip to keep from calling out his name. The tension thrummed between them even now, reclined as they were on the thick, warm fur.

Marie's brows drew together. There was so much locked away behind her teeth. She was desperate to let it out. To let him know a part of her she'd never shared.

"It's kinda a lot, sugar."

He recognized that tone. She was testing the waters. Seeking his guidance and approval. Wanting him to take charge. To take control. To tell her to tell him what was on her mind.

"Up to you, baby," he said instead, trying to chain his slipping control.

It had to be on her.

* * *

Up next: **Welcome to the Jungle**. Marie makes an intimate confession. Logan's invitation gets a response, but not the one he was expecting…


	12. Welcome to the Jungle

Marie nodded and took a deep breath, determined to get the words out before she lost her nerve. She wasn't worried Logan would judge her. He had a colorful past and was surprisingly understanding about most things; fender benders, misdemeanors, errors in judgment that generally ended in phone calls in the wee hours of the morning asking for advice - and on rare occasions - help. Hell, he was the kind of man who'd probably take a whispered confession that she'd killed someone in stride, with a nod and a grimace and a: _Here's whatcha do, kid... _While this wasn't remotely as serious, it was difficult to talk about all the same.

"It all kinda started because I wanted to watch the game tonight. I went down early to the lounge to see if the TV was free since almost everyone was still on the field trip with Hank and 'Ro and I walked in on Jubes and Remy gettin' hot and heavy on the couch."

Jubilee had been straddling his lap with her back to Marie, and Remy's mouth had been busy on her neck, nipping and kissing and murmuring heated little fragments of broken French that made Jubilee moan and clutch him closer. His hands were moving rhythmically under her long skirt and they were both rocking a little. Neither of them had noticed her standing at the edge of the doorway with a bowl of popcorn in her hands.

Logan nodded, wanting to encourage her to go on without interrupting the flow.

"They were oblivious and I should have left as soon as I noticed them, but then I remembered what we were talking about by the bonfire that night — about watching — and I..." A blush swept down her cheeks and neck, her lip caught in her teeth as she hesitated.

"You watch a bit?"

She nodded, looking away.

"You like it, baby?" His voice was soft and husky, a growl lurking just under the surface.

Marie nodded again, flushing deeper. "Yes and no. The idea, yeah. But it was Jubes and that was weird, so I closed my eyes after a few seconds... but I didn't leave." God, her mother was right. She was going to Hell.

Logan smiled at her loyalty to her friend — and at her naïveté. "Then what?"

"Then breathing. Little murmurs that weren't quite words. Wet kissin' noises. The creak of the leather as they shifted... and then he made this _sound_," she shuddered. The memory was powerful and she felt her body throb and her nipples pull up tightly as gooseflesh rose on her arms. She tried not to think about Logan possibly noticing her reaction.

"What kinda sound?"

"A soft grunt and a chuff of air. It was deep and sexy, but quiet. Almost involuntary. Raw. I felt that sound over my whole body. It made me instantly—" she stopped abruptly, shuddering again and looked away, embarrassed.

She didn't have to finish that thought. He knew what it had made her do because it had just happened again. The scent of her desire filled his head, tickling along his skin. She'd grown wetter, softer, more open. In response, he'd grown harder, thicker and more firm. There was a certain symmetry there that was difficult not to appreciate. Or act upon.

He was also aware it was the sound itself and not the man who'd made the sound that had affected her so deeply; definitely a good thing for Gambit's overall longevity. It made him wonder what kind of reaction she might have to a man she actually had feelings for. He tucked that thought away for later.

"Was she on top?"

Marie nodded, wondering how he knew that. "She was when I closed my eyes, yeah. Straddling his lap." Her voice was a whisper. "Why?"

He shrugged casually, but a dark fire was burning in his eyes. "That's the kinda sound a man can't help but make when a woman sits down on him and takes him in deep, darlin'."

Hot and tight and creamy, a sudden plunge that envelops her lover so fast that he can't quite stop himself. A slick clasp that's so good, so much and so deep that it all but forces that sound out as he nudges her cervix and she tightens up all around him. It was different when a man was on top, controlling that first thrust into the slick, glossy heat. Sometimes he still made noise, but it wasn't usually torn from him in quite the same way.

All the air seemed to have been sucked from the room. Marie was suddenly sweaty and shaky, not quite sure where to rest her gaze. Logan didn't seem to have that problem. He was staring at her intently, those predatory eyes of his missing nothing.

"Oh..."

He smiled. "You get caught?"

"Yeah. I mean, I think Remy felt me rather than heard or saw me."

"What?"

"Jubes says she's pretty sure he's an empath, so I guess maybe he felt what that sound did to me." She'd wanted the floor to open up and swallow her. She kind of did now a little too.

"Hmph." Logan was no longer amused. He could feel a growl building. An empath? A lot of things suddenly made much more sense now. Fuck Remy for keeping that from the team. It had been a couple of years now and this was the first he'd heard of that particular gift. Slippery little motherfucker. Always had an angle and a different story for anyone foolish enough to ask.

"Yeah. I know, right? Then he said something incredibly dirty that I won't repeat. I thought he was talking to Jubes at first, but when I opened my eyes, he was looking at me. Right at me. But still kissin' on her. I don't think she even realized." Marie supposed he could have been talking to both of them. The erotic, crudely muttered patois could have applied to either of them, but the smug little leer that accompanied it said it was just for her.

"Fucker." It was more a growl and less a word.

"You're not gonna offer to go kick his ass?" she teased at the black look on his face.

His mouth twitched. "Don't need to. You're more than capable of that if you wanna." She flushed with pride. "Besides, I never announce an ass kickin'. Plausible deniability for you. No premeditation for me. And a black eye and a bruised jaw for any dirty bastards who should keep their fuckin' eyes and filthy mouths to themselves." He was only half kidding. He and the Cajun were going to have words. Definitely.

"I appreciate it, sugar, but if I thought he deserved it, I'd have given it to him with both barrels. It's on me too. I stayed when I should have bailed."

"Nah. S'on them. Goin' at it in public implies a certain invitation to look."

"Did it for you?" His eyes flicked to up to hers. "With the barmaid?"

Well, now. He hadn't expected that. He shrugged. "I didn't mind it."

"Didn't mind it or liked it?"

He thought about that. "Both. Either." He had the sense she was testing him, feeling him out. Seeing how honest he would be with her. "I liked her eyes on me, yeah." She caught the subtle, smug lift of his lips. "She liked it real good too." Especially after he'd winked at her over his shoulder and positioned his body to invite a closer look. "I put on a good show." He knew women responded to that raw predatory power and he was not above using it to his advantage when it suited him.

She seemed to consider that.

"Is your offer still open?" He had to hear how fast her heart was beating.

Heat rolled through him. "Now which offer would that be, darlin'?" He had no intention of making this easy for her.

"You and me. Watching. Somewhere swanky."

Not a half bad attempt. She'd at least held his eyes.

"Not good enough. If you can't even say the words when it's just us alone, you'd probably be too shy to enjoy yourself there like you should," he said honestly. "It's okay if you are, kid. Ain't no shame in that. It ain't for everyone." He wanted it to be for her though. Wanted it so bad he could feel his blood burning.

"This place have a name?"

"The Red Door."

She leaned forward and put her hand on his forearm. Even through his flannel shirt she could feel the latent power in him and his unique musculature under her fingertips, warm and solid. She wet her lips and took a deep breath.

"Logan, sugar? I want you to take me to The Red Door. I want to sit with you and watch n'listen to people makin' each other feel good — really good, not just an act. I want to drink a little too much and laugh too loud and probably ask you a million embarrassing questions. I want to feel a little scared and a lot excited and maybe more than a little turned on. I want to see you a little turned on too." His eyes widened slightly at that. "I want to laugh and talk and just have fun, and I want to do all of that sitting next you, feeling safe and... normal, like any other person out for a good time, even if I'm blushing like crazy."

_Goddamn. _

"I like it when ya blush." It was real. Honest. She didn't playact with him because she didn't yet know how. She was a world away from the jaded, cynical women he usually passed an evening with, and he knew there was only a small window of time where she'd be this way; standing at the edge of embracing her strength as a woman, on the precipice of sexuality and experience, not yet fully aware of the power she would find there and its effect on men.

"So if any of that sounds good, I'd like to go with you... If you want."

"I want." And he did. More than ever, because damn if her little speech hadn't blown his hair back. He clearly needed to adjust his idea of 'not ready'.

Her eyes met his, her gaze unwavering. "Is that along the lines of what you expect from the night?"

"I don't expect anythin', darlin'. I just want ya to be comfortable and have a good time."

"Is- is that the real truth?" There was something in his eyes, something dark and glinting that hinted otherwise. She wasn't wrong to ask and that she recognized it made him feel a little better about making the offer to take her to begin with.

"I hope you can be open to it. Show a little skin. Feel easy about it. Take the night as it comes, seein' what lights your fire and what don't. I won't lie. I like gettin' to be the man sittin' with ya while you're figurin' those things out. There's somethin' there that really does it for me." His teeth flashed. "But then I've always been a possessive bastard when it comesta you." She'd felt like his from the moment she yelled out to him in that shitty bar in Laughlin City. "Watchin' somethin' hot. Gettin' hot. Watchin' you get hot. Drinkin' and laughin' and havin' a good time? All of that sounds real good, darlin'. You'll be safe with me, okay?"

"Okay."

"Just like that? You took longer decidin' what kinda beer you wanted tonight."

She laughed. "Just like that. I've been thinking about it for a while now."

"I guess it's unanimous then." There was a slow smile tugging at his lips.

"Definitely." Her eyes glittered with mischief as she looked him up and down. "Two thumbs and one third appendage way, way up, sugar."

"Jesus, kid," he muttered, running a hand through his hair with a rough laugh. "I don't mind ya lookin', but you don't call a man on it unless you're prepared for him to do the same."

"Really?"

"Really."

"I'll remember that... for next time," she said, giving him a saucy wink as she watched him adjust himself and sit back with another slice. She might have even waggled her eyebrows and blown him a cheeky kiss.

Marie was still in there, but the Rogue? The Rogue was definitely growing on him.

* * *

Up next: **Dust in the Wind**. Logan and Marie share an intimate moment in the woods.


	13. Dust in the Wind

Marie had been actively avoiding Logan for days. It bothered him, partly because he couldn't work out why, and partly because it simply hurt. Busy was one thing, and she was usually pretty good about telling him when she needed space. This avoidance was something else.

He'd heard her in the forest this afternoon and he thought she was finally coming up to the house, but instead she gave his property a wide berth. That had him up and off the porch before he registered he was moving. He tracked her easily through the woods to a large clearing by the shore of the small lake. The sun was shining but the wind was fierce and cold, buffeting even his heavy body. The lake was choppy with white caps.

He saw her emerge from the tree line, wearing the long green coat he remembered from that first night in Laughlin City and carrying something in her hands. Her slight form was easily manipulated by the wild power of the wind. Each strong gust rocked her back a step but she stood resolute. She turned her face toward the lake and the force of the wind off the water blew her hood back. Her hair streamed behind her like a banner.

She jumped a foot when he silently appeared at her side.

"Geez, Logan! Warn a girl, wouldya?"

"Hey, kid. Whatcha doin'?"

A blush rose on her cheeks and she fidgeted, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "It's kinda personal."

That stung. He shrugged. "Okay, then." He turned to go, face hard and stoic, his body rigid with rejection. She'd never dismissed him like that before.

He was surprised when she caught his arm and he allowed her to pull him to a stop. "Hey, I didn't mean it like that. You can stay if you want." He was unconvinced. "I'd like you to, really. But if you do, you have to help and not just watch."

Well, now that caught his interest. "No hints?"

"Nope. Either you want to or you don't. Your call, cowboy."

He didn't even hesitate.

"I wanna."

Her expression was unreadable. Had he made the right choice? He wasn't sure. She didn't seem upset or angry at him and if she wasn't, then he was really confused about why she'd purposefully avoid him. Was this about things changing between them? The sex club? Something else?

Marie knelt at his feet and a flood of erotic images, charged by the memory of several overheard conversations, ran full-tilt through his brain. On her knees in front of him, head bowed, lip caught between her teeth... For one insane moment he wondered if she was kneeling to—

_No. No. Jesus. Not that, asshole. Christ!_

His jaw clenched and he drew in a slow breath, trying to calm the wild rush roaring under his skin as he watched her put the small sack down and reach for the clasp.

Unaware of Logan's momentary struggle, Marie opened the bag she'd been carrying. She removed a handmade paper kite and unrolled it before handing him a thick spool of string with heavy duty handles. As she tucked the bag into her deep pocket, he noticed the arms of her coat were a good inch too short. Nothing stays the same forever.

"If you want to bail, now's the time, sugar."

Distracted by trying to wrangle his base thoughts into submission, he realized he hadn't taken the spool from her outstretched fingers. He hadn't been expecting _this_, but something about her was still not right and he wanted to see where this was going before he opened his mouth. Fuck only knew what might come out right now, anyway.

He took the spool in answer, watching her face while she searched his eyes before she finally shrugged and bent to prepare the kite for its inaugural flight. The kite was simple but beautifully crafted. She'd painted it with swirls of cobalt, violet and a deep crimson that made him think of blood. The colors were rich and vibrant but the overall impression was of sadness. Picking up the kite and shaking out the tail streamers, she took the spool from his hand.

"You ever done this?"

He shook his head. Not that he could remember.

"Okay then. You watch me this time. Next time it's you." She waited for his nod and he had the feeling if he hadn't, she would have sent him away. He paid attention to her hands and to what she was doing; where she rested the kite, how much slack she drew and how much distance she put between herself and the kite. He had no desire to look like a fool in front of her when his turn came.

She was suddenly in motion. It seemed like magic, like she'd only taken three or four quick steps and the kite was in the air, ten feet and then twenty. He could hear the hiss of the streamers and the snapping and popping of the kite as it was buffeted by the powerful wind. It came back down in a graceful swoop and she gathered it up and brought it to him.

"Now you."

Feeling a little foolish, he took the kite and spool from her. Walking a little distance away, he set the kite the way she had and pulled out what he hoped was an appropriate amount of slack as he walked backwards. She was nodding, so he must not be doing it too terribly wrong.

_Now'r never, bub._

He moved. Quickly. The kite was up. He was elated for one brief moment and then it rocketed back to Earth. His second and third attempts were much the same. It made him feel uncomfortable and angry. He didn't like to fail at anything, especially in front of her.

She appeared at his shoulder, her hand on his arm, pulling his ear down to her lips even though they both knew she really didn't need to for him to hear her. "There's a moment, just when the wind catches it. It wants to go up. You're letting it go then. You're surrendering when you need to fight."

They both smiled. It might possibly be the only time in history that someone had ever uttered those words to him and meant them.

"The wind is wild, unpredictable. It wants to take the kite but it needs resistance. The wind needs something to pull against that's anchored. The kite needs both to fly."

Were they still talking about kites? He wasn't sure.

"Try it again. This time, when you feel the wind grab it, don't give it more slack. Let the wind fight you for it. When you feel the pull, hold it tighter. When it starts to buck and judder, let the string slip between your fingers. Just- just a little. The wind wants to work for it. Once it takes it, you'll know."

He nodded, feeling slightly uncomfortable because her husky directions were starting to make him hard. She gave him an appraising look and he was thankful she couldn't read his mind.

"When you're ready..."

_Set the kite. Wait for the grab. Don't give it up too easy. Feel the string slip. Not too much... _He was still just thankful the fucking thing hadn't crashed in the first few seconds when he felt a hard jerk on his arm. The second jerk was even stronger and the string burned where it slipped quickly through his fingers. It was up and rising fast. Elation roared hotly through him and the intensity of it surprised him.

Marie was running to him, her face lit up like a Christmas tree. The wind had snatched away her words, but he could clearly read her pleasure. She was breathless when she reached him. "More, sugar, more! Don't stop!" The line burned through his hand again. Her words made a very different sort of heat burn much lower. She stopped at his side as the kite went higher still.

"You're a good teacher, darlin'."

"Cooking and kites. At least there are a few things I do well." He was focused on the kite and missed the flash of sadness in her face.

"Now what?"

"Now you play with it, cowboy."

He almost swallowed his tongue.

Her laughter was genuine. "Don't arch that eyebrow at me. You asked for this."

"Yes, ma'am."

She touched his arm through his sleeve, spreading out her fingers to feel the bunch and flex of his muscles as the wind grabbed the kite.

"You've got it just right. Any higher and it gets hard for a beginner to control. The wind will let you play with it, control it even, if you don't let it have too much head."

Jesus, she was burning him up.

"Watch." Leaving one hand on Logan's arm to feel the tension, she wrapped the other around the string and pulled. The kite danced, swooping in a wide circle to the left. She pulled again, and the kite made an arc through the sky in the opposite direction. The string thrummed as she let it go. "Now you..."

He had no idea how she could make it move so easily. His strength was a hundred times that of hers and the pull on his arms was tremendous. It must be finesse and not brute strength, otherwise the wind would yank the kite from her fingers. He pulled and the kite moved, swirling and dancing. He heard laughter and was surprised to find it was his own. Above the wind, he could hear the wild whipping of the streamers and the bright snapping of the kite's body.

"Shit. S'gonna break."

"No it won't. The wind wants it but the kite's strong. It's made for this. They're just playin'." Marie shaded her eyes and looked up. "You're better at this part than I am. My arms get tired too quickly."

Pleasure rolled through him. Her approval always did that for him. Even in the small things.

"Here, kid. You have a turn." He handed it over and stood at her back as she took it with a quiet smile.

She moved closer and took his hand in hers.

"Touch it."

_Ah, God._ His mouth went dry.

Guiding his hand to the string so he could feel the movement, she let a good thirty or forty feet out and the kite rose quickly, the line humming with tension as the wind grabbed it, dragging it across the sky. It sang for her, swirling and spinning, sometimes quickly, sometimes in slow lazy circles.

Instead of staring at the kite, Logan dropped his hand and observed Marie's face, surprised to see envy there as she watched the wind move the kite and felt the pull in her arms. She was walking slowly now, away from the lake and toward the trees. Something about that particular spot must have called to her because she sat, not seeming to care the grass was wet and boggy. He sat too, curious.

"Up now," she said quietly and she relaxed her hold on the spool. It whirled wildly in her hands, making a sort of buzzing noise as the line paid out faster and faster. She slowed the wild careening as it neared the end, just a few circles of string left, looped and tied to the spool with a firm knot. "It'll snap now if you're not careful." He watched as she let the last few turns out slowly until it was just an empty spool with the string wrapped twice and tied securely with a strong knot. "Here... feel it now."

She passed back the spool. He was surprised by the pull. It was more powerful now, wilder with less quick lateral movements.

"S'stronger," he said quietly. It felt good. Wild. She'd left her hands on his arms to share the sensation and he liked that, too.

That made her smile. "It sure is."

"How much line is that?" He could barely see the kite now as it danced along the edge of the clouds.

"Just a short one today. Quarter of a mile. At the beach you can do half a mile, easy."

A chuff of air left his chest. "Gonna take you an hour to reel it in."

"I'm not worried." She shrugged. "This is the best part. Feel it. The wind has it completely now. Touching it all over. Rough and gentle with no rules or constraints. Pushing it higher, making it do what it wants the kite to do, letting the kite just take it all, because that's what it's been built for. The wind's so wild up there. Strong and timeless. There's no control now. Only surrender. Just flight and life and freedom. It's beautiful." There were tears in her eyes.

He had the sense, again, that she wasn't talking about kites anymore. Not at all. That maybe not a single word of what she'd said to him this afternoon had been about kites. And he nodded, because his throat was suddenly tight.

She reached into her coat. A sudden flash of silver caught his attention and his eyes widened as she palmed a butterfly knife and deftly opened it with a quick flick of her wrist. Who the fuck had taught her to do _that_? Before he could even register what she was doing, she reached up and cut the string.

"Wait!"

She just shook her head, watching as the small dark speck soared violently upwards and disappeared into the clouds. He stared at her, first in shock and then with compassion. Her eyes slipped shut. Tears leaked under her lashes. The deep look of longing on her upturned face was painful to see and he understood in that moment why this was private for her. Touch and freedom lay at the heart of it. They gave rise to desire and longing and release and finally catharsis as she let it go. That's why the painting on the kite evoked sadness. It was a physical act that felt good, euphoric and pleasurable at first and then symbolic at the end, cutting ties, the loss of hope and the quiet, violent longing for touch.

She wanted to be free.

_Oh, darlin'. _"Keep your eyes closed, huh?"

She nodded, still under his fingertips as she felt him brush the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. A brief touch. Too quick for her skin to hurt him. He hugged her close for long moments and then she could feel his hands on her shoulders and his breath, warm in her ear.

"Come and find me up at the house when you're done here."

She nodded again, thankful he could read her desire for space. Since she'd manifested, she had given herself this gift every February when the others were exchanging flowers and candy. And kisses. With the passage of time, this ritual became more important as her childish desire for a boyfriend's kisses became a woman's deeper longing for a lover of her own.

Marie wasn't sure how she felt about sharing the familiar ritual with Logan. She'd enjoyed it, watching his pleasure and sharing her own. It wasn't a traditional exchange, but was all she had. It made her melancholy. She wanted more and was very aware it was unlikely to happen. In another way, it made her feel... not happy, exactly, but content. She had a very deep connection with a person she loved very much. It wasn't sexual or romantic, but she'd shared something special with him today, something personal and intimate, and that felt good.

Today it was enough. Someday, though, someday very soon this strange limbo they existed in wasn't going to be enough and she was afraid of what she might find on the other side. Today had been a hard day, good but difficult. Fear outweighed sadness. Fear and her quiet enjoyment of his pleasure.

The wind was cutting through her and the idea of warming herself by Logan's fire was enough to push her to her feet. Her eyes opened. Something silver glittered against her coat. Surprised, she looked down, following the delicate chain around her neck to the pendant hanging against her chest. When had he put that there? A flawless piece of frosty red sea glass rested against her heart, glowing brilliantly in the late afternoon sun. It was simple and beautiful and Marie realized that Logan too had wanted to mark the passing of this day in his own gruff way. No words. No big gestures. Just a kite, a little piece of sea glass, and the pleasure of a shared afternoon.

It was the best Valentine's Day she'd ever had.

* * *

Up next: **Wind of Change**. Nothing stays the same forever. The Rogue reminds the Wolverine that he owes her a night at The Red Door, and she's in the mood to collect...


	14. Wind of Change

Logan saw her boots first. Rolling over, he looked up at Marie from the floor of the garage, his hands busy inside the bike's engine. He took a moment to enjoy the view; pretty wrap dress, cropped leather jacket, white scarf shot through with silver, her hair up in a messy bun and gloved fingers wrapped around a white paper cup that smelled of coffee and chocolate. She looked good and smelled better, and it had nothing to do with the steaming cup in her hand.

"Hey, kid."

Marie couldn't help but smile at him. There was a beer near his elbow, three empties on the workbench and he had a smear of grease above his left eyebrow and an expression that said he there was no place else he'd rather be.

"Whatcha doing?"

His brow arched. "Fishin'."

She giggled at his teasing and toed him with her boot before bending at the knees to crouch down next to him. She peered at the engine. "Spark plug?"

The luscious scent got stronger and his concentration shattered. He dropped the tool and cursed as he grated the skin off one knuckle.

"Shit!" Logan sucked at it as it healed, frowning as the scent and taste of blood and engine grease mingled with the heady scent of the woman crouched near his head. Christ, she smelled good.

"Well, you've bled on it, so at least it will let you fix it properly now."

He cracked a smile. "Who taughtya that?"

"Scott."

"He ain't wrong."

It was probably one of the nicest things he'd ever said about Scott and it chased away the sad smile from her face. She and Scott had grown closer after Jean's death and she still felt his loss keenly.

Logan pushed himself to his feet and grabbed a rag to wipe his hands. Marie straightened, brushing at her skirt before she half leaned, half sat against his bike. He wondered, with a touch of wry amusement, if she had any idea how proprietary that gesture was. You didn't touch a man's bike like that unless you belonged to him too.

Hell, maybe some part of her did know. She met his eyes and stroked the glossy tank with an appreciative fingertip; a long, slow glide up over the swell and down the sleek side, rimming the gas cap for good measure. Tight maddening circles that drew a rough, dirty growl from him. She may as well have been stroking him. It had the same result. His mouth actually watered. The desire to put his hands on her and drag her to him rose, sharp and hot. She stretched out her legs, crossing her ankles before taking another sip of coffee and looking up at him from under her lashes.

She seemed like a woman with something on her mind.

Fair enough. He had a few things on his mind, too.

He should have taken a step back, grabbed that beer and put some distance between them, but he'd never been one to listen to the voice of reason. Especially not with that scent in the air between them. He moved closer instead.

"What's up, darlin'? This about the dinner you owe me tomorrow? I was thinkin' pot roast. Maybe with that real good bread you make. The sweet one. Dessert too. You know how to make chess pie?" It was by far the easier of two cravings to discuss.

"Are you ever not hungry?"

"Nope. Gotta big appetite." Understatement of the century. She was lighting all sorts of fires in him today. The beast within was ravenous, though it wasn't the thought filling his belly that made hunger burn brightly from behind his eyes. He looked but said nothing. That wasn't a conversation either of them were ready for.

"Well, no, this isn't about dinner. Yes, I'll make the pot roast and the _pao doce_. And yes, anyone who knows all the words to Dixie can make a chess pie, sugar." She winked at him. "But I was thinking maybe baked Alaska. I've always wanted to try that."

"Next time."

Marie rolled her eyes, aware there would more than likely be several next times. She couldn't always figure out how he was doing it, but he typically seemed either to win her markers outright or to acquire them from the person who had. He'd spent one afternoon building a new greenhouse for 'Ro to earn back the marker she'd won. She'd lost three to Hank that he'd somehow reclaimed and Jubilee had told her Logan had straight-up bribed her for the marker she'd won.

In the interest of self-preservation, Bobby had thrown his down on Logan's pile of chips and all but fled from the table directly following their last game. Honestly, the man was a menace. But it was kind of sweet that he liked her cooking enough to bother. He was too proud to ask her to cook for him and too damn stubborn to accept her charity, but he had no problem redeeming a marker. He didn't like to be in anyone's debt. Even hers.

"Whatcha got on deck, darlin'?" She had that look that said she wanted to talk and she better get to it quickly. He didn't have much patience left. Not today.

"I was wondering..." Her cheeks got pink. It was a good look on her. That long slim neck and full red pout were definitely doing it for him, too. "The Red Door, sugar. You owe me a date."

"I do." He'd been waiting for her to ask, wanting to be sure she was sober and completely aware of what she was asking of him.

"Well, I'm in the mood to collect."

That he knew all too well. It was stamped all over her right now, in the way she looked and smelled, in the sinuous way she moved, even in the way she held herself. And then there was the way she'd planted herself on his bike, shifting and stroking and—_ Fuck. _

"Soon."

"When?"

"Next weekend work for you, baby?" He gave her a dirty little leer just to watch her laugh.

"What's wrong with this weekend? I know you don't have any plans beyond pot roast, chess pie and tiling the kitchen backsplash." He'd somehow roped her into helping with that too.

Logan shook his head. "Can't."

"Can't or won't?"

"Both."

"You change your mind?"

"Hell, no." He had the opposite problem. He wanted it a little too much right now. Taking Marie to a sex club was probably going to stretch his control pretty thin as it was. There was no way he could take her there smelling as good as she smelled right now. That was hard enough without the environment of a sex club amping things up.

It was more than chemistry, it was biology. The scent tickled his brain, made him want to bite her, to rut and thrust and feel her open and receptive under his body while he filled her to overflowing with rivers of come. He wanted her scent all over him and he wanted to overlay it with his own.

There were subtle changes in her behavior too. She was more confident, more open and flirtatious. Her body was looser, her drawl a little thicker, her touches lingered and were more sensual. Men responded to it, it wasn't just him, although he felt it more keenly than most.

"What is it then?"

"Marie—"

"The truth, straight up. That's our deal, right?"

"It is, yeah." His face softened slightly. "S'just this one ain't real pretty. Maybe you could just let me have this one." His voice was low and husky now, quiet but not gentle.

"Like you just let me have one when I asked you to take me to the club that first time?" He hadn't cut her an inch of slack. "I don't think so, sunshine. If we're gonna go to a place like that together, we've got to be straight with each other."

"You might not like whatcha hear. Fair warnin'."

"I'll take my chances."

Finally he just shrugged. "You know how I am."

"Stoic, surly and prone to growling and clawin' things when you're pissed?"

He chuckled. She was not wrong. "My senses. How they are."

Marie nodded. She remembered. He'd poured himself into her twice, and when it was over, everything had just been... _more_. Like a dial turned up past the comfort zone. The lights were too bright and sounds too loud. She could feel the rough rasp of her clothes against her skin, every little nerve ending raw and wild. Scents and tastes had overwhelmed her. It was a cacophony of the senses; a wild riot skittering over her skin and under it. It had taken some getting used to. He rarely said anything about it, and sometimes she forgot that's how it was for him all the time. "I remember," she said softly.

The water under that bridge was deep and swift. He acknowledged it with a nod.

"I just needta wait a few days. You smell too good right now."

"Good?" Marie wrinkled up her nose. "I could take a shower," she teased.

"Wouldn't help."

"Good how? Perfume? Shampoo? Sweat? Pheromones? Fabric softener? What?"

"Fertile." That was all the explanation that was needed.

_Oh, God._

Her teasing smile faded and she blushed to the roots of her hair. "Um. Okay."

"Sorry," he said, meaning it. It embarrassed him. Even now. All of it, the healing. The senses. The strength. The claws. He didn't like talking about it. Especially not this aspect, which made him feel more like an animal than the claws ever did.

"Me too. I didn't realize I made you uncomfortable. You've known me for years. Why didn't you say something sooner?" The thought that she'd inflicted that on him a dozen times a year for half a decade made her feel awful.

"Hey, it ain't like that. It ain't a bad thing. S'natural. It's not usually a big deal. You always smell good to me, kid." His expression softened. "Even when you were young and scared in a dive bar, and in need of a shower and some clean clothes."

"Logan!"

"Heh. It ain't gonna get you out of dinner tomorrow, either. I want that pie."

"If you're sure."

"It's nothin'. Really. Just makes me-" _Wanna follow my nose? Hot? Feel like I'm splittin' outta my skin? _"A little more possessive, and you know that ain't easy for me when it comesta you." He'd never made any bones about that fact. Something in him had recognized her as his from the moment she'd yelled out in that bar in Laughlin City.

"It's all right. I get it."

He wasn't sure she did. Not really. "I wanna take you. I do. It just ain't a good idea to mix that possessive streak with drinkin' and watchin' somethin' that'll make our blood run hot in a crowd. That's all." Logan was impressed with himself. That came out sounding a whole lot better than it felt inside; a wild crimson swirl of something that was becoming increasingly difficult to keep chained, scent or no.

Her eyes danced. "I suppose it would probably be best if the evening didn't end with someone getting impaled."

Out of the mouths of babes.

"Or clawed," she added mischievously.

Jesus. That Rogue really was going to be the death of him.

* * *

Up next: **Hungry Like the Wolf**. The Wolverine and the Rogue prepare for a night at The Red Door...


	15. Hungry Like the Wolf

**Author's note**: Sorry for the posting delay. I have no excuse! I freely admit blowing off the final vetting of this chapter for a hot date with a girlfriend I hadn't seen in forever. Hey, the dessert was dead sexy! That counts as hot, right? Heh. (Chocolate custard with rivers of warm fudge for those who wanna know.) We talked about work and school and men and sex and writing… Damn good evening, in my book. Onward!

* * *

Marie smiled as she made her way to Logan's door, passing his truck and the bike on her way up the gravel drive. Both were shiny and clean and she felt a start of warmth. Her best friend's father had once told her to never go on a first date with a man who wouldn't clean up for her or who didn't wash his vehicle first. She was thankful for whatever lingering sense of old-fashioned chivalry prompted Logan make the effort. They both knew it wasn't a real date, but it still made her feel good. Special.

There was an unexpected knock at his door. Logan jerked it open and growled, "What?" before he saw who was standing there. She was early. Or maybe she'd changed her mind about going? She was dressed in jeans and a hoodie and had a bag slung over her shoulder. In her hand was a feather she must have found on the walk over. She was twirling it absently in her fingers. It fell forgotten into the wind at the look on Logan's face.

"Um..." Marie's eyes widened at the tone of his voice and at the view. He was shirtless, in jeans with damp hair and he had shaving cream on his face. His voice had been impersonal and sharp, a tone he normally reserved for other people. Never her.

"Heh. Sorry, darlin'. Didn't realize it was you. Can only smell the shavin' cream." He toed the door open with his bare foot in invitation and disappeared back inside. "You're early." More than an hour. He was supposed to pick her up at the mansion at seven. His brow arched as he walked back into the bathroom and called, "What's with the bag? It ain't a sleepover."

Marie giggled. "I was kinda hoping to get ready here. Jubes' radar is up and she's way too interested in what I'm wearing and where I'm going tonight. I sorta wanted to avoid the third degree about all of that."

Jubilee was flighty, but she could be remarkably astute when she chose to apply herself. It didn't help that Remy was on a pick-up with Hank tonight. There was nothing to distract Jubes, and under the circumstances, being the subject of her intense focus was a little disconcerting. Especially when what Marie wanted was to fly under the radar as quietly and as covertly as possible.

"Suit yourself. Be done in a minute." He was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, running a razor under the water with one hand and spreading the shaving cream along his chin and neck with the other.

"Can- can I watch?"

His gaze swung to hers, trying to work her out. Prurience or something else? Both?

"I used to watch my dad shave on the weekends when I was a little girl. I miss it. One of the few good memories, you know?" Her eyes sparkled. "Plus, now I think it's just sexy as hell."

Both, then.

He nodded. "Sure, kid." He couldn't recall sharing this intimacy with anyone in the last twenty years. It was strange, in some ways more personal than sex. The intimate care of his body. It was a little uncomfortable, but he liked it. He liked feeling her eyes on him. And he liked that she wanted to look probably more than he should.

Marie dropped her bag and flopped down on his sleeping pallet, smiling at the new black t-shirt still in the plastic packaging next to his belt and socks before her gaze wandered back to him. She watched, enthralled by this private act of a stoic man who so rarely gave up those pieces of himself. His head tilting this way and that. The glide of the razor on the corded muscles in his neck. The way his throat worked when he swallowed. His movements were swift and efficient, the strokes smooth and practiced.

It was over too soon.

He didn't actually shave all that much, just a little around his mouth, over his chin, and along his neck. He rinsed his face and rubbed a towel over his neck and chest, preening for her just a bit. He knew what his body did to women and he wasn't above using it to his advantage.

"Mmm..."

Throwing down the towel, he left the bathroom. "So, I pass muster then?"

Marie looked up at him from the bed as he threaded his belt through the loops of his jeans. The act was strangely hypnotic and she felt an almost overwhelming compulsion to sink to her knees in front of him. She cleared her throat with a grin. "You definitely have my vote for the King of Sparta, sugar."

He chuckled. "You say some shit, you know?"

"Yep." She grinned at him.

Logan rubbed a hand over his mouth and chin. "Don't know why I bother." Except they both knew why he'd bothered tonight. "The five o'clock shadow will probably be back before we even leave."

"It suits you." She rose up on her knees, the desire to stroke a fingertip over his freshly bare chin was strong.

He saw her check the impulse and moved closer. "Go ahead if you wanna. You won't hurt me."

Her touch was hesitant, just the brush of the pads of her fingers over his lips and chin. She smiled, not because of the smooth, soft skin under her fingertips, but because she'd managed the touch without hurting him. She did it again, this time allowing herself a little more pressure and letting her fingers trail down his neck before pulling away.

Logan caught her covered arm but didn't move away. "Tickles," he grunted.

"You're ticklish?"

"Ah, no." Shit. "No I ain't." Much.

"You are!" The tips of his ears turned red and Marie was completely charmed.

He growled at her and was surprised when she threw back her head and laughed.

"You know that doesn't work on me, right?" At least not the way he probably intended.

"Jesus. Get goin' already." He sat down to put on his socks and boots. "Unless you were thinkin' of lettin' me watch you shave?" The deadpan delivery was perfect, but she caught the little twitch of his lips.

Marie rolled her eyes at him, grabbing her bag and heading for the small bathroom. "In your dreams, cowboy."

"Mmph." Wasn't that the damned truth?

Logan smiled at the closed bathroom door and then winced at the sound of Marie singing - badly - in his shower as he finished dressing. Lord love her, but that girl couldn't carry a tune worth a damn. He was finished and ready to go before she'd even turned the water off. Grabbing a beer, he sat down to wait, flicking through the channels absently as the sun began to set.

It felt strange having her here like this. Their energy was different than it had ever been before, though he was aware part of it probably had to do with his anticipation of the evening. It was startling to realize he was enjoying the wait and the knowledge she was grooming herself under his roof, taking care with her appearance and her attire for him tonight, much the same as he'd done for her. His fingers brushed over his mouth and chin as he thought about her wonder at the small change in his own appearance. He lit a cigar and sat back, soaking in the strange sensation.

In all the years he could remember, he'd never waited on a good woman to get ready for a nice evening out, and yet the quiet satisfaction he took from it wasn't wholly unfamiliar. Maybe he'd been lucky enough in the years he'd lost to have a woman worth waiting for like he was waiting for Marie tonight. He hoped so.

Normally he didn't pay much attention to her clothes, but tonight he wondered what she'd wear. He'd specifically not said anything about it because he was curious to see what choice she'd make all on her own. Demure? Sexy? Slutty? Covered from head to toe? A bit of skin? He hoped she wouldn't do that thing some women did with their makeup where they made their eyes black and dark and painted their lips the same shade as their skin. Marie had gorgeous full lips and he preferred them rose pink and wet, like she'd just been kissed good and hard.

Tonight he let his mind wander to places that he'd steered clear of for years. It wasn't the first time she'd used his shower, but it was the first time he allowed himself the sensual pleasure of listening in to her every breath and sigh and splash and letting it fuel a fantasy without guilt or shame coloring the experience.

Hard nipples under a warm spray. The scent of his soap on her skin. Iridescent bubbles following the path of least resistance and inviting his hands and mouth to follow. His forehead on her breastbone. Her fingers in his hair, holding him to her breast. It didn't feel like any sex he could ever remember wanting and he had no idea what that meant.

Steam and scent became a pleasurable friction as slow and sweet gave way to something with a sharper edge. Her lip in his teeth. A feminine grunt as he pushed inside in one unforgiving stroke. All in. His growl at the hand on his ass, pulling him deeper. Her legs open to him. Her body, too. Sweet and slippery; a glide and viscosity a world away from the hot cascade of water slicking them both. Hands pinned to the wall and the cold tile at her back… and then her front. And then laughter because he was too big and she was too damn petite to make that work smoothly on the first try.

Later, a firm hand on her jaw. The crash of their bodies and a hard relentless press. Not playful now. Urgent and needy. Her thighs around his hips again and her heel digging into his ass as he pounded her against the wall until they both came. His hand between her legs after. Not to soothe. To feel what he'd done. Proof it hadn't been just another dream.

Logan wondered if Marie had any idea how many times he'd stood there in that same, small enclosed space; head bent with one hand resting on the wall and the other between his legs as thoughts of her played behind his closed eyes while the hot spray beat against his broad back. Sometimes it was just that. Just longing and a simple touch. Sometimes it was a rough, wild slide through a clenched fist that ended in grunts broken by a chain of filthy words and the heavy spatter of semen on the shower floor.

Was she thinking about him now as her small, white hands slid over her body and between her legs? Her admission that she wanted to see him aroused tonight by what they saw together certainly suggested that possibility. The stories she'd written seemed to back that idea up in a way that made him want to forget about what was good and right and sink into the Wolverine's unapologetic animal nature. No rules. No boundaries. No guilt. Just instinct. And blissful, primal freedom.

Christ. He didn't even know what to make of that. It was terrifying. And ruthlessly compelling.

She was here, now, naked and vulnerable. He'd been naked behind that same door only minutes ago. It amused him in a perversely macabre sort of way. They seemed to always be just slightly out of step. Right from the beginning. Maybe what she wanted from him tonight would change that a little. The anticipation had him tightly wound.

Logan got up, built a fire for later and poured himself a drink. It was only half past six, but he was restless and a little on edge. He pocketed his keys and dug his wallet from his jeans, checking to be sure he had enough cash for the evening. He knew he did. He'd checked earlier, but it gave his hands something to do.

The condoms he'd put in his jacket pocket weighed heavily on his mind. It had just been automatic at first. Wallet. Lighter. Cigar. Phone. Condoms. Only, tonight promised to be anything but usual. He knew he shouldn't have done that, but he couldn't make himself take them out either. Jesus, he was really fucked in the head. He was aware he shouldn't be doing any of this and yet he knew he wasn't going to stop. He was looking forward to tonight and whatever it brought for them. He'd promised to keep her safe. Beyond that was anyone's guess.

The soft click of the bathroom door was barely audible, except if one was listening for that specific sound among all others. She stepped out, still in the process of finishing the final details. His eyes flicked to her and he felt the floor fall away.

Simple. Understated. And hot as fuck.

Her hair was up, smoothed back into a high ponytail. Supple black suede pants molded themselves to her lithe frame. She'd topped them with a satin corset in a verdant shamrock green. He'd never seen her wear anything that revealed so much of her skin before. It laced up the back and the black ties nipped in her slender waist, hanging enticingly and drawing his eye to the sweet curve of her ass. Her boots were black and sexy; not platform fuck-me heels, still stylish but low enough that she could fight in them if she had to.

That was his girl right there. Hot as hell and ready to throw down if it came to that. She hadn't noticed him looking yet because her attention was on smoothing a long, black opera glove up her arm. Those were his favorites, soft and silky. One arm was still milky white and naked and he realized he found the sight more exciting than the most graphic hardcore images. It was that juxtaposition that finally jarred him into action.

Crushing out the cigar, he rose to his feet, staring raptly as she put on the other glove and meticulously stroked the fit right. Watching her stroke her skin like that was maddening. There was something very erotic about watching her put on those satiny gloves. She turned to face him. Face made up like a vintage pinup girl; cat eye liner and red lips, wet and dewy. He felt his mouth curve into a smile.

He wanted to kiss her. To turn her in his arms and put his mouth on that gorgeous alabaster flesh; a strong bite right there at the nape of her neck. His brain, his every instinct, was screaming at him to mark her. He crushed that down and said instead, "You look real beautiful, darlin'." He grinned wider. "Hot as hell, too."

She flushed with pleasure. "Thanks, sugar. You like?" She twirled slowly for his inspection. "I wasn't sure if it was right..." The only thing really out of her comfort zone was the new corset. The rest of the clothes were from her closet.

"It's right." Much, much too right. As for the club, anything goes, but she'd managed to choose something tailored to his specific tastes. He wondered if she'd done that on purpose or if it had merely been coincidence. "I like it real good," his voice was low and smoky. "I'm proud to have ya on my arm, darlin'." Proud and damn lucky.

Her smile was warm and genuine, full of real affection and he felt it down to his soles.

"You look nice too." He still looked like himself, but he was wearing a new shirt and his good boots. He'd taken the time to clean them up nicely, and paired with a black button down and his favorite leather jacket, he had her pulse jumping.

"Thanks." He couldn't seem to take his eyes from her, either.

"Of course, I like you best barefoot in jeans and nothing else but that endearing swagger, but I'll manage somehow."

"Hmph." Logan snorted, unsure if she was truly teasing, but he was amused and pleased to see Rogue peeking through. He was beginning to miss her now when she was quiet too long.

"It's not too much skin?" And that was Marie, back again.

"S'fine, darlin'. You don't gotta worry."

"If you're sure."

"Baby, you know me. I don't do subtle. If it wasn't fine, you'd sure as hell know it."

Her full-throated laugh was silvery and sensual. "I suppose you're right."

"Generally am."

"Oh!" she said, dashing back to the bathroom. Her heels clicked on the floor. The feminine sound made him smile. She was back a moment later. "I almost forgot." In her hands was a black satin ribbon on which she'd strung the sea glass pendant he'd given her. "Could you put this on for me? It's too hard with the gloves." Satin on satin on alabaster. His jaw clenched.

Nodding, he took it from her. "Sure, kid."

She stepped close and turned to put her back to him, brushing the long silky fall of her ponytail aside to bare her slim neck for him.

He very nearly bit her. It was a close thing. He couldn't keep the growl of approval back and didn't even try. It rumbled low and deep as he tightened the satin around her throat. Brushing a thumb down her delicate nape, he stepped away before he did something he couldn't take back. This was her night and he wasn't about to fuck it up before they'd even walked out the door.

The effect was pitch perfect. It wasn't quite a collar, but it was suggestive enough to hit a few of his major triggers. His gift hung in the delicate hollow of her throat and it appeased something in him to see it there, marking her as his.

He cleared his throat. "You ready?"

"Yeah, I just need my coat."

She turned from him to get it and he took a moment to enjoy the view. He was surprised to realize that her body had changed. When he'd seen her naked in the bath he'd been looking at the parts rather than the whole. He saw it clearly now. Her baby fat was gone, her face more slender and angular. Her body was leaner, more sinuous and leggy. Her breasts were a little smaller. She had a fighter's build now, toned and strong. Even the way she moved was different, confident and graceful.

Her mutation wasn't the only thing that made her dangerous. She'd put in a lot of hard hours training between the time she'd taken the Cure and the time her mutation reasserted itself. She wasn't that scared kid anymore. Somewhere along the line she'd slipped from a girl to a woman and he'd missed it. It was profoundly disturbing.

He followed her, helping her into her coat. It was the first time he'd ever done that and it made her blush. The shearling aviator jacket had been a gift from him two birthdays back. It was the perfect complement to her outfit, especially after she wound a sheer green scarf around her neck and looked up at him through her lashes.

Sweet Christ, she was sex and danger and innocence wrapped in leather and smiling at him with excitement shining in her eyes.

He was so fucked.

* * *

Up next: **Rebel Yell**. In the midnight hour, she cried, "More, more, more!"


	16. Rebel Yell

Logan opened the door of the truck for Marie. It was the first time he'd ever done that in all their years together, and like that moment when he'd first helped her into her coat, the change from their usual routine made her blush. Something in him had switched over. It made her feel strange and unsure, and very aware these little changes were likely indicative of a much deeper shift. Everything was different now.

And yet, everything was still very much the same, too. He was still himself, just... more.

She knew this night would change things between them. There were probably going to be repercussions that she hadn't even considered, and she'd been thinking about this a lot. Even being with him in the cab felt odd. Not quite right; like some vestige of the past that didn't quite strike the right note anymore.

"Logan?"

"Yeah, kid?" He slid into the driver's seat and closed the door, reaching for his keys.

"This doesn't feel right."

Surprise followed by intense disappointment flashed across his face before he could school it into stoic impassivity. "S'ok, darlin'. You're in charge tonight. Nothin's gonna happen that you ain't ready for. We can just go to dinner instead if you wanna." It hurt more than he thought it would and that surprised him. He'd hadn't realized how important an adult evening with her had been to him until it had been ripped away.

"No. Not that. I still wanna go."

"Then what?"

"I just meant the truck feels... wrong somehow? It's a night of firsts, isn't it? I was thinking maybe the bike instead?" He was mildly annoyed with her for phrasing that so poorly now that he knew what she was really after.

"Oh?" His brow arched at that idea, however.

A ride on the bike with him fell into the same category as watching him fight always had; a flat denial and a hard look that said there would be no further discussion.

"I figured I might as well swing for the fence since I'm already on the field tonight."

She'd surprised him again. He'd been looking forward to talking to her on the way there. Something more suggestive and openly sexual than their usual conversations. A warm-up for tonight and the things they'd see and experience together. He was sure she'd have questions. Probably a lot of really probative ones knowing her. She seemed to live to find the chinks in his armor. He had a few of his own questions, too. The bike wasn't really conducive to talking, though he wasn't sure that would really matter. He didn't imagine he'd be too articulate with her hands on his body and her thighs wrapped around his hips.

"Go big or go home, huh?" How like her to inadvertently land on the biggest chink of all.

"Exactly."

"Gonna be cold later." It was nice now. The temperature had been on the upswing this week, pushing into the mid sixties during the day but falling to the low forties in the evening. More snow was coming next week. Winter wasn't quite finished with them.

She was surprised he hadn't said no outright. "You'll live." He chuckled at her sass. "And I'll take my chances."

He looked into her eyes, searching. Finally he just shrugged. "If you wanna." She was right. It did feel wrong. Too small somehow in a way that wasn't at all about the physical space.

Marie was elated for a moment before something else occurred to her. "Do you? Want to, I mean." She put her hand on his arm. "The truth now, sugar."

He nodded.

Letting out a deep breath, he turned to face her. "Yeah, I do. For a while now." To be frank, there had never been a time when he didn't want that. But wanting something and it being okay to have it were two entirely different things.

Marie blushed when he got out, walked around and opened the door of the truck for her. He'd never let her see that part of him before. To be honest, she wasn't sure he even knew that part of him was still in there. That's definitely not how he'd been in her head. There were women. Lots of them. But he didn't go on _dates_.

It was awkward. She stood by the bike, unsure what to do, feeling a bit like a scared rabbit chased down by a predator, heart slamming, frozen, and not quite sure what move to make next. "So how do we...?"

He looked her up and down, head tilted. "First, tuck your scarf inside your jacket so it doesn't get caught in the back wheel and kill ya." She complied with a sheepish, apologetic smile. "Second," he swung his leg over and the bike dipped under his considerable weight. It made her wonder what it would be like to be pinned under his powerful body. What would a thrust with that kind of weight behind it feel like? She shivered under his intense gaze that seemed to know everything and miss nothing. "You get on and-"

"Wait. You're not gonna try to make me wear a helmet?"

"I'm not your your father." He shrugged. "Last I checked, you could vote and drink so that decision's yours, ain't it?" Her eyes were very wide now. "If you don't see yourself as an adult, how is anyone else supposedta?"

_Wow. Okay._ You could have knocked her over with a feather. Every time she thought she'd found her footing with him, the sand shifted under her again. She hadn't meant it quite the way he'd taken it. She'd been more curious why his usual assertive protectiveness hadn't been more vocal, but there was a kernel of truth in what he was saying.

"I- I don't want to wear one."

"Reason? And it better not be 'cause you don't wanna mess up your hair."

"Not that I have to answer to you..." She smiled, thinking. "But I zip myself into the leather pretty regularly. We do some pretty hairy stuff. People, scary people with powers, try to hurt us, _really_ hurt us all the time and nobody makes me wear a helmet for that. Correct me if I'm wrong, but that seems like a whole lot more dangerous than a short ride into the city, sugar."

"Fair enough. And you ain't wrong." As long as she'd reasoned it out, he had no complaints either way. "And we both know I'd just heal ya if it cameta that."

"I know," she said softly. "But I'm not reckless with myself just because of that, you know? I don't think of you like some kind of safety net."

"You should," he said seriously. That's what they were to each other. A safe place to fall. Emotionally. Physically. Pretty much everything but sexually. Logan wondered if that part would ever change. He knew there was a time she'd wanted it to. He wasn't sure anymore, despite the conversations he'd overheard in the last few months. A tidal wave had obliterated that bridge a long time ago.

They were close now; a deep relationship that defied explanation. What would happen if they fucked with that dynamic too much? Their connection was intense — volatile and messy even without sex. There was a very real chance they could both lose what little peace they'd found in this life. The condoms felt heavy in his pocket, but it didn't change his desire to push the boundaries with her a little. They couldn't stay in this limbo too much longer. It was hurting them both.

"I love that you want to. I just hate what it costs you to do it."

"Paid it gladly, both times. I would again, as many times as you needed, kid."

"I know. But I don't want to be that."

"Be what?"

"Just another person who takes things from you."

Something warm flared in his chest. "No chance of that." Not now, and not in the larger sense as well. He was taking someone barely legal to a sex club and she thought _she_ was the one taking and not giving? That was just so _Marie_. She filled him up with good things all the time.

"I'm taking plenty tonight," she pointed out. "First your bathroom, and now a bike ride, and let's not forget the rest of the evening while we're adding things up."

"Plannin' on takin' a little more, huh?" The idea pleased him immensely.

"Oh yeah." Her expression was somewhere between cocksure bravado and acute embarrassment.

He smiled darkly. "Darlin', you might be the one callin' the shots tonight, but it ain't just for you. I want it, too. For me." He let her make of that what she would. He had no plans to elaborate.

"Oh." Her eyebrows were practically at her hairline.

_Heh. Good. _

"So," he cleared his throat. "That sweet little ass a'yours goes here." He patted the seat behind him. "Feet go there." He indicated to the pegs, grunting as she slipped behind him. "Hands around my middle. High or low, up to you. As long as you keep 'em north of the Indian, we're fine." That damned buckle! She rolled her eyes at his teasing but he didn't miss how her breath had caught. "You might wanna tuck 'em up under my jacket so they don't freeze once we get goin'."

He felt her small hands move up his sides and slip under his jacket experimentally. "You mean right here?" she squeezed his sides softly and felt him shudder. His body was so warm and solid under her hands; thick bands of muscle, full of tension. "Right on this _I'm-not-at-all ticklish_ skin, sugar?" She was itching to wiggle her fingers like crazy, but torturing him wasn't likely to endear herself to him and she didn't want this first ride to also be her last. She'd behave. For now.

"_Marie_." It was a warning that had a little edge to it.

"Yes, sir." She had no idea why those words elicited another shudder, but it shook his powerful frame. "Now what?"

He sat up, reaching back with his hands to pull her into him before his palms slipped down her thighs, pressing her legs into his and against the bike's lean lines. "You ever ridden a horse?"

"Y-yeah. Um, yes." _Sweet baby Jesus._ She was touching a whole lot of him. That had been the general idea, but she was suddenly understanding why they'd never done this before. It was overwhelming. And really, really hard to keep in the flirty-but-friends realm. Logan was between her thighs. She could feel his solid heat. He felt and smelled so good. It made her want to push her face against his throat and lick him. Her head spun.

"Well it's pretty much the same with bikes and men, darlin'. The harder you squeeze, the better the ride." Satisfaction burned through him at the playfully scandalized look on her face. "Heh."

She recovered quickly. "Does that also mean they both misstart on occasion, both have a temperamental tendency to choke up, and both quit working when they run out of gas?" Pressed up against his back, she felt the rumble in his chest as well as heard it.

He was really starting to have a thing for that Rogue; her nimble mind and her wicked mouth. The little fingers just shy of his belt buckle were doing it for him pretty good, too.

"Not every man runs out of gas, baby."

He planted a foot and leaned up to kick-start the bike, effectively cutting her off with a grin before she could make some suggestive crack about a pump that never ran dry. That girl could make anything sound dirty. He approved. Especially because in this case, it was all too true. Settling back on the bike, he waited a moment for her to insinuate herself against his back once more.

"Tighter," he palmed her thigh. The touch was sensual. More a caress than true direction. He'd never touched her like _that_ before. Like a woman.

Like a woman he wanted to touch again.

"Logan?"

Another firm stroke in response. "Just move with me, darlin'. And don't let go."

Words to live by.

* * *

Up next: **Crazy Train**. The wheels are in motion and they're gaining momentum. Even if they come off the rails, it's gonna be one helluva ride…

_I know, I know. Get on with it, already, right? I promise the next chapter [and the half a (smuty)dozen that follow] are actually going to be at the sex club… ;) Also, I'm totally taking suggestions for rockin' 80's songs. Share 'em if you got 'em! _


	17. Crazy Train

The ride was wild, exhilarating. Xavier's school was remote. They whipped along the back roads, full of hope and expectation. By the time the bike reached the city, Marie was euphoric. Logan enjoyed her pleasure as only a man with enhanced senses could; the thrumming excitement in her tense body, the quickened cadence of her sweet breath in his ear, the wild slamming of her heart against his back and her silvery laughter on the night wind. The scent of joy, clean and sweet, filled his head.

He felt her hands squeeze him lightly to get his attention. He slowed, letting the roar of the engine subside into a rough purr.

"Does it still feel like this for you?" Was it still as good twenty years on as it was at first?

Logan knew instantly what she meant. Wild. Free. In the wind and unrestrained with a world of open possibilities in front of them.

"Every time."

There was a soft beat of time where they both savored the old memory his answer had invoked. He liked even more that she'd asked, that she respected his privacy in that way. He knew damn well she could have looked in her head for that answer easily enough. It made him feel safe. He thought again about the things she'd given him through the years and the things she gave him still. A tingle of excitement skittered under his skin at the thought of what they might give each other tonight.

They navigated the busy streets, weaving deeper into the industrial district. Logan rolled the bike to a stop outside a nondescript warehouse. A valet appeared seemingly out of thin air. They dismounted and Logan tossed over the keys.

"Same place tonight, Mr. Logan?" Logan didn't like not knowing where to find his bike if he needed it in a hurry. He had been very explicit about that in the beginning. Now they had a system. Aaron always parked the bike in the same place and had the hostess bring Logan the keys, though he was certain someone who was that untrusting probably carried a spare set just to be sure. Aaron didn't really mind. A lot of their clientele had strange requests. This banality barely registered.

"Yep. Take it for a quick spin first if you wanna, but you scratch it and I'll scratch you, huh?"

The young man nodded, chuckling at their long-running joke. "Yes, sir." Slipping on the bike, he disappeared with a grin and a hearty wave.

"Logan?" Marie was confused as they stood alone on a deserted street. There was nothing at all inviting or exciting about where they'd found themselves. "I'm confused. Even the whack shack looked better than this."

"Heh. Anonymity, darlin'." Chuck wasn't the only one who understood the benefits of blending into the crowd. "It don't look like much on the outside. That's the point. It's not supposed to be easy to find. S'one of those word-of-mouth kinda places." In point of fact, it was exactly that. The Red Door was an exclusive club that catered to an upscale, mostly mutant clientele with a taste for wild, edgy sex and a deep desire for privacy. "It's just through here." He lead them down an alley and entered a plain, rusty, gray door. Marie followed, wary but curious and surprisingly calmed by the large hand that appeared at the small of her back.

The door swung inward to reveal a large open space. It was all concrete and metal, the feel industrial and cold, though the ambient temperature was quite a bit warmer than she was expecting, probably to facilitate a lot of naked skin. It was already making her unzip her jacket. There was an old fashioned freight elevator located in the center of the space; the kind with a hand-operated iron grill. It was flanked by two sculptures, one glass, one metal. At the far end of the long room was a teal blue door, behind which Marie could hear muted hum of music and the steady driving rumble of deep thumping bass.

Directly to their left was a sleek granite counter manned by an ethereally petite woman with shockingly fair skin, short, spiky, white-blond hair and eyes so pale they were barely tinged blue. She was wearing a severe grey suit and a truly wicked pair of black stilettos. In front of her was a slim silver laptop and a smart little phone the same pale icy blue as her eyes. Her scent was mercurial and Logan had never been able to figure out if she was a human with a mind like a steel trap or a mutant with a perfect memory for details. She knew everything about everyone, from their names and account numbers to their favorite drink to the kind of sex they liked to have and who - or what - they liked to have it with. There were times he thought the laptop might be just for show. She was that good.

"Good evening, Mr. Logan."

"Willow." The name fit her. Strong, flexible, and he bet it stung like a son-of-a-bitch if she lit into you. She was the kind of woman you didn't fuck around with. She liked his easy charm though, and he was always respectful, even when he was making wickedly indecent proposals with his eyes. He was probably the only man who dared. She was frightening. Definitely not his usual preference, but he'd always liked strong women. There would be none of that tonight, however. Logan's hand slipped from the small of Marie's back to draw her closer, but he didn't introduce her and she was glad. She wanted to be as low key as possible. The less people who knew her name here, the better.

"Two for tonight?"

"Yep."

"Is the account we have on file for you still current?"

"Sure is."

Her fingers flew over the keyboard. It had a significant positive balance, though she already knew what it was to the penny. Logan didn't do credit or plastic. It was always cash, usually a lot of it paid at one time and he worked his way through it at his leisure. He wasn't a regular client, but he was certainly memorable. Once every few months, he came in, blew a few minds and left the staff talking for weeks.

His body was terrifyingly beautiful, his physical stamina was wildly impressive and he handed out orgasms like newspapers on a Sunday morning. Any one of those things would be enough on its own. That particular trifecta catapulted him into the legendary class, and that was without taking into account what happened on the top floor afterwards.

He was abrupt and direct, but he had a playful streak under that brooding surly exterior and he treated the employees respectfully and tipped well. He occasionally liked to pick a fight, usually with someone who deserved it, but every client had their faults and Logan was sharp enough to never throw the first punch. He was definitely a man worth the occasional trouble he caused.

"Will you be requiring your usual room tonight? I can check if it's available."

_Usual room? _Marie's ears perked up at that.

Logan felt Marie tense slightly under his fingers.

"Not tonight, honey."

Willow kept the surprise from her face. Normally Logan called in advance, preferring to go about his business with a minimum amount of contact, aside from the occasional bit of teasing and a smoldering glance or two. He was one of the few men who'd ever tempted her to break her stoic reserve. He'd also never brought a woman here before. He was a staff favorite and she knew it wouldn't be long before that little tidbit made its way around tonight.

The girl on his arm was pretty. Younger than she imagined he'd be into, given his history here. Definitely an innocent if the wide eyes and high color were any indication. Nothing like the women he usually went for. Willow's delicate features remained perfectly placid, even as her mind whirled.

"Where shall I have the hostess bring your keys?"

"Second floor." His lips twitched with amusement. Willow's expression might not have changed one iota, but her scent said she was very surprised. Logan rarely bothered with the lower floors. "Whatcha got on deck tonight?"

"Naamah and Blaze in the East Chamber. A new human/mutant hetero pair in the West Chamber. Very sensual. Mostly vanilla with some interesting hints of D/s. Excellent opening acts for both. Breathplay and shibari, respectively." Logan was nodding. Marie felt very lost and distinctly out of her element.

"Sounds good." He almost smirked as Willow's eyes widened slightly. He'd never so much as seen a crack in her facade before.

_Good?_ She couldn't have been more shocked if he'd said he wanted her to order up some popcorn and find a copy of Mary Poppins for him to watch while she painted his nails.

"Will there be anything else you require this evening, Mr. Logan?" _A copy of Alice in Wonderland, perhaps? _She had the feeling the girl at his side was about to take quite a tumble down the rabbit hole. _Eat me. Drink me. _

_Fuck me. _

"That'll do me." He turned to look at Marie. "Unless there's somethin' you want, darlin'?" He stopped just short of waggling his brows at her.

Marie blushed to the roots of her hair and shook her head. She had no idea what to even ask for, although something told her the tall, svelte, blonde woman had probably seen and heard it all. That thought gave her flagging bravado a shot in the arm. She intended to embrace this experience with open arms, to meet him as an equal on this new battlefield.

"I'll let you know if there is, sugar. Shall we see if they have a Playboy for you?" This time it was Logan's eyes who widened. "No? Alrighty, then. Lay on, Macduff..."

He didn't say anything but he chuckled at her sass.

Willow watched the exchange raptly. The little slip of a girl teased him like_ that_? Who was she to him? They were throwing off some serious sparks so she didn't think she was just a friend. Pity about that. It made the fantasy better to imagine him unattached. "The passcode tonight is KNOT. Please let me know if there is anything else we can do for you."

"Thanks, honey. You have a good night, now."

Marie's eyes flicked to the elevator and she realized that there was a very modern keypad set into the wall by the old iron grill. She was curious. And she wanted to check out the sculptures, too. Aside from the blue door, they were the only other source of color in the entire gray space.

As they walked away from the counter, Marie looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "Usual room, sugar? Care to share?"

He shrugged. "I get a room here sometimes, kid."

_Kid? _Willow was almost out of earshot but she couldn't quite believe what she was hearing. Usually her job was pretty boring. There wasn't much that was new to her after four years working the front desk, but that had shocked her in a way something deviantly kinky never could. Affection from _Logan_? Prurience, sure. Lust, sure. But true affection? Willow suddenly, desperately, wanted to be the girl worthy of such feeling from a man like that.

Marie's mind was spinning.

"You _pay_ for things here... besides the cover?" Marie could imagine him hooking up with a woman here. Maybe even more than one at a time, but the lingering pieces of him in her head were very clear that paying for sex wasn't his style. It made her burn with curiosity.

Logan nodded.

"What kinds of things?"

His brow arched. "Baby, when you have enough miles on ya to have a similar answer to give me in trade, we'll talk. Until then, it's for me to know and you to find out." He was aware she thought he tomcatted around a lot, though it wasn't nearly as often as she imagined.

As they'd grown closer, he'd pulled back some, partly because he knew Marie wouldn't like it and partly because they all paled in comparison to the woman he really wanted, although every now and then he came here and really cut loose. He needed the release. It was easy enough to find a willing partner or two - or three - upstairs from among the other patrons. He usually fucked himself into a pleasure-soaked coma and then retired to a private room where he paid a woman to cover herself from head to toe and hold him while he slept. There was no way he was telling Marie that.

She pouted playfully and he was very tempted to kiss that teasing little mouth of hers, mutation be damned.

"C'mon." He guided her towards the waiting elevator.

Marie shivered, aware that the elevator was hardly as innocent as it looked. Once she stepped inside, nothing would ever be the same again.

* * *

Up next: **Love In an Elevator**. Going up...

Thanks for the awesome response to the last chapter! Y'all gave some inspired song recs. I'm currently writing some citrusy foreplay (I'm sure you're all shocked. heh). Anyone got an 80's song rec for that? I need a little inspiration and I feel like _Pearl Necklace_ is maybe a little too on the (ahem) nose... ;)


	18. Love In an Elevator

Logan and Marie were mid way to the elevators when the blue door opened and half a dozen young men came through it, raucous, wild and more than a little drunk. Two of them ogled Marie obviously, but only one was stupid enough to stop and hit on her. She instantly moved a step closer to Logan and he was a little surprised. She hadn't done that in years. Not since her first semester of combat training. That she did so now made him very aware how unsure of herself she was.

She could handle herself competently in a simulated war zone, co-pilot the Blackbird, and kick some serious Brotherhood ass with a sparkle in her eye and a steady confident hand, but this? Intimacy and open sexuality? All of it was new enough to her to throw her pretty good. Part of him liked it, while another part of him was realizing how very much further she had to go before she'd be ready for someone with his carnal appetites.

"Hey, sweet thing. You look good enough to eat. You wanna dump the old man and come upstairs with me? I'll show ya a real good time. I bet a sweet little thing like you tastes better'n honey." He made a rude gesture with his tongue. Clearly one of the boys had a death wish.

The snarl was out before Logan could stop it.

"Jesus, dude. Are you _growling_? What the fuck?"

Marie looked the young punk up and down, bolstered by the firm, solid hand at the small of her back. "First of all, that's not how you talk to a lady. You can keep that nasty talk to yourself. Second, it would take an act of God to pry me away from him tonight. And third, you don't have near enough miles on you to be remotely interesting to me, or any other self-respecting woman. Maybe in twenty years — after you've learned some dadgum manners." Her tone implied his knowledge of women was painfully inadequate in other areas, too. She turned back to Logan. "You ready, sugar?"

"Sure am." Logan could feel his lips twitch as he looked over at the little fuckwit who was still reeling from the sharp side of her tongue. Logan had been on the business end of it many times. Marie was a passionate, volatile woman. It packed a punch, for damn sure. "Beat it, bub."

He turned his back on the boys. The dismissal was plain, even at six-to-one odds. That he dared to do it earned their grudging respect. He was proud of Marie for standing up for herself. It had been a long damn time since she'd needed him to fight her battles, though he could feel her trembling and her scent was somewhere north of acutely embarrassed, tempered with a healthy dose of pissed.

"You can keep her, pops." Stupid punk was whining to his friends and mouthing off. Loudly. "Man, what a cunt." Marie felt Logan tense at her side. "But maybe that's his thing, huh guys? Fucking bratty little Lolitas. I wonder how old she was the first time she sucked his dick?"

_Shit._

Logan turned around. The slow movement was wholly predatory.

_Shit-Shit-shit!_

"Sugar?" She put a hand on his arm.

"S'fine, darlin'. Just be a minute."

Willow was moving from behind the counter now, but not fast enough.

"I'd tell ya you owe the lady an apology, son, but she ain't done nothin' bad enough to deserve talkin' to you again. You shoulda listened to her. She ain't wrong."

"The fuck she's not," he slurred. He was clearly inebriated enough to not quite recognize the danger he was in. His friends did, and were making a real effort to drag him out. "You don't know what the fuck you're talking about, you dirty old bastard."

"That right? Well, one of us is goin' home to rub one out under his mama's roof and one of us is goin' upstairs with the hottest woman who ever walked inta this place. I'd say someone knows what he's doin' and it sure as hell ain't you, boy." Enraged by the unvarnished truth, the young punk got away from his friends and threw a wild punch. Logan caught it in his fist, tweaked a pressure point and the kid went down like a ton of bricks, screaming like a little girl. "I don't remember givin' you permission to touch me, bub."

Across the room, Marie smiled. He put people down in his self defense class like that all the time. Perhaps not with that much force or enjoyment, but he wasn't at all out of control. Marie relaxed and let herself enjoy it a little more. It wasn't often one got to witness karmic retribution in action.

Willow's heels clicked to a halt just beside the shocked group of boys who were apologizing profusely and trying to drag their fallen buddy away.

"Willow, honey? You need any help takin' out the trash?"

"Thank you, no." The scent of ozone was strong as her body phased from flesh to a being of luminous energy. Well, that was one question answered. Logan could feel the electrical charge tingling in his bones and took a step back, releasing the now whimpering boy into Willow's less-than-tender care. She reminded him of one really big taser. Goddamn. That sure was something, though he had too much metal in him to really appreciate the beauty of it. "Please accept our deepest apologies for this inconvenience." Her voice was different now, a resonant hum that set his teeth on edge. "Consider your evening on the house and I assure you the offending party will be dealt with so this never happens again."

"Fair enough."

Logan turned back around. Marie was waiting where he'd left her, rooted to the spot as she watched him approach. "Um. Thanks?" _The hottest woman who'd ever walked in here?_ Surely he hadn't been serious.

"No problem."

"I'm a little surprised you didn't, you know..." she moved her hand in a way he understood was meant to mimic the way he released his claws.

"Nah. Not worth it. He's just a drunk asshole who needed a lesson in how to talk to a lady." Though if this had happened last week when she'd smelled ripe and ready to take his seed, there probably would have been a pretty decent chance he'd have stuck that little fucker good. He knew his limits.

"You know, when I was thinking of this night getting my blood pumping, it wasn't quite like this..."

A chuff of amusement escaped his lips. "We'll get there." The look he gave her made her knees weak.

Logan saw her eyes swing to the blue door. "What is that place?"

"The kiddie pool."

"What?"

"This place has five floors, darlin'. This floor is just a regular club. That's where Willow sends the dipshits and the babies who are too wet behind the ears to go upstairs. It probably has some kinda real name, but that's how I think of it."

"Ouch."

"Yep." His tone said he didn't have much sympathy for anyone who fell into either category.

"What about the other floors?"

"Well, I ain't supposed to tell ya, but I've never been real good at followin' rules." His knuckles stroked the small of her back. It should have scared her but instead she moved into the unconscious touch. "The second floor is for the live shows."

"Live shows?"

"Dancin'. Strippin'. Touchin'." He moved closer, putting his lips by her ear, not because he was embarrassed, but because he knew she'd be more comfortable. "Fuckin'." He all but purred the word in her ear and his eyes warmed as he saw her shiver.

"And-and the others?"

"Third floor's a buncha open little rooms with everythin' under the sun happenin' at any given time. Clothin' is optional and you can watch or participate as the spirit moves ya." Her eyes were really round now. "The fourth floor is like the third, except it's just one huge space instead of a lotta small rooms."

"Like- like an orgy?"

He thought about that a minute. "Maybe a buncha little orgies, yeah."

"And the fifth floor?"

"All private rooms with red doors."

"What's behind the red doors, sugar?"

His teeth flashed. "Anythin' you can imagine and afford to pay for, darlin'."

"That's where you like to go?"

He met her eyes. "Yes."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Do ya always gotta push?"

She rolled her eyes. "You knew going into this I'd have a million questions."

"Not before we even got in the elevator." That made her laugh. "All the rooms have themes," he finally offered. Not cheezy, overdone theatrics. They were top shelf, high class all the way down to the last perfectly recreated detail.

"Which one do you like? Let me guess... Graceland? Hunka-hunka-burnin' luuurve with red velvet and sequins? Disco glam with a big sparkly ball, gold lamé curtains and mirrors on the ceiling, circa 1970's Vegas?"

"Jesus." He rolled his eyes. "That the best you can do?"

"Deflecting. But how 'bout Camelot? Arabian nights? Gothic? Egyptian tomb? Some Neanderthal's dirty cave, all primal and wild with a fire pit and a pile of furs? Sex dungeon with carabiners in the ceiling_ a la_ Fifty Shades?"

Something glinted in her eyes. Interesting.

"Fifty what?"

"I'll tell you later," she teased and he laughed aloud as they stood in front of the elevators. "You're really not gonna tell me?"

"The Nagasaki Room," he said quietly. Some people thought the name in poor taste. He disagreed. He'd lived it. He should know. He went there to break himself, from ash to serenity and back again.

"Oh." It wasn't at all what she'd expected.

"You owe me an answer now, kid. What room would you pick?"

Marie was suddenly aware of what a personal question she'd just asked. "Um..."

An exact replica of his room at the school, that first night she'd tried to wake him from his dark dreams. Only this time she'd like it to end differently, without a chest full of adamantium, but still with some part of him thrust deeply inside her.

"Still waitin'."

He clearly wasn't going to go anywhere until she told him what he wanted to know. She passed on her first choice because there was no way she was going to tell him that. "Hmm…." What to say?

"Lies have a distinctive stink."

Damn the man. He was always two steps ahead. She skated as close to the truth as she dared.

"The cave," she said softly, feeling a sweeping flush move down her neck and chest as she pictured his bearskin rug. Entwined with him on a thick pile of furs before a fire; a primal joining, sweat-slicked skin under her fingertips and his taste in her mouth.

That was not at all what he'd expected. A bolt of heat struck him powerfully hard, touching off something better left buried. He felt the Wolverine rattle the bars and he glanced over at Willow, who had returned to the front counter. She was out of earshot but still watching them with those curious, pale eyes.

Not trusting himself to speak, he extended a finger toward the keypad.

"Logan, wait."

"What?"

"I wanted to look at the sculptures first, if that's okay?" It didn't surprise him in the least. She loved art and had dragged him to museums several times over the years.

"Sure, kid." He let out a deep breath, glad to have things move onto safer ground. He needed to stop thinking about her milky skin in the flickering light of the fire while he covered her like an animal, rutting between her slim thighs until she called out his name. He forced himself back to the present.

The two pieces of art couldn't have been more dissimilar. One was a beautiful Chihuly, rose-tinged-pink rippling glass in overlapping waves, like an opening flower or a seashell. It was smooth and glossy, slick enough that it looked wet. So many words came to mind when she looked at it. _The sea, flowing... wet...open...a pearl... lips... _

Logan watched her watch the sculpture, aware the exact moment she realized what it was. A woman in her pleasure, folds slick and open. A female orgasm. The brass plaque under it read: _The Flower_.

"Oh..."

He heard her soft intake of breath and smiled.

The other was a tall spike of metal, somewhere between the Eiffel Tower and the Empire State Building. It was modern; abstract and wild, an amalgamation of various oxidized metals, painstakingly fused into an angry structure that looked like one solid piece rising well above their heads but was really composed of tens of thousands of tiny spikes of metal. Nails. Construction refuse. Pens. Ice picks. Rebar. Snips and slivers of other projects. Knives. Saw blades. Drill bits. knitting needles. Screwdrivers. It had welding spatter on it; drops and dribbles of melted metal that were suggestive of another kind of splatter entirely. It even smelled metallic and sharp, like that strange sensation of licking a dime. The plaque read: _The Spire_.

Marie was very aware that Logan was watching her.

The meaning had been clear to him since the first time he'd stepped into the Lobby a few years back, but he'd never taken the time to look that closely at the art until now.

"You know what it is, darlin'?"

"An erection," she whispered, barely audible enough for even his acute hearing to catch it.

"A cock," he said, his voice low and husky. "You can say it." Her blush went all the way down and he didn't think he'd ever get tired of watching that.

"Logan!" she chided softly.

He moved them back a step so they could see the sculptures together. "Both together, see? Soft and hard. They both change. One grows thicker, harder, more intrusive. The other gets softer, wetter, more receptive."

Her eyes were wide and round. It wasn't exactly new information, but he'd never talked to her like _that _before.

If this was a taste of the evening to come... Marie closed her eyes and her whole body shuddered slightly with embarrassment and pleasure. The hand he had at her back pressed more firmly, steadying her for a moment before he moved away.

"S'nature. Yin and Yang. The perfect complement."

"Excuse me." A handsomely dressed couple stepped between them, eying them curiously as the female punched in the code and the light flipped from red to green. The man grabbed the grill. Logan was surprised that he'd been so caught up in Marie's reaction that he hadn't even heard them approach. "I do hate to interrupt her lesson, but shall we hold it for you?" Both of them had their eyes on Marie, not lewdly, but definitely with a prurient attentiveness.

"We'll catch the next one," Logan said pulling her close.

"Such a pity, isn't it, darling? That blush is delicious." The man nodded and the grill clanged shut before the elevator rose out of sight.

"Oh my God!" Marie's scandalized tone made him want to laugh. "They were..."

Interested.

"They sure were, baby."

Marie looked from the Flower to the Spire and back to Logan again. The word cock rolling off his tongue was still echoing in her brain. "I'm pretty sure that my blood's pounding for the right reason now."

"Same here."

They stared at each other for long minutes, saying nothing. Just watching and feeling the tide turn.

Finally, she gave the smallest nod.

He reached for the keypad.

Her eyes sparkled mischievously as she looked him up and down. "Going _up_, sugar?"

Christ, she'd always been a little vixen.

His eyes glittered back. "What'd I tell ya about callin' a man on it, baby?"

That she shouldn't do it unless she was prepared for him to do the same. _Oh, God. _

She was suddenly very aware of the weight and power in his body as he crowded her slightly before growling, "Marie, darlin'? Get in..."

* * *

Up Next: **Love Bites**. Logan stops the elevator between floors to get a few things straight with Marie. The Wolverine decides to add his two cents… and down the rabbit hole they go.


	19. Love Bites

Logan reached across Marie's svelte body and momentarily stopped the elevator between floors.

"Logan?"

"I shoulda asked you before. I needta know what kinda experience you're lookin' for tonight." He'd planned on having this conversation in the truck on the way over, but that's not quite how the night had unfolded. Instead she'd wrapped those long legs of hers around his hips and they'd rumbled along, enjoying each other and the scenery whipping by, and all the things he should have said and done had gone straight out of his head the second she'd squeezed him tight and whispered, 'more' and then 'faster' into his ear. Goddamn. He'd nearly laid the bike down.

"What?" It was practically a squeak and it made him wonder how smart bringing her here actually was. Probably not very, but then he'd never been good at restraint in general.

"Watchin' or bein' watched. What's your pleasure?"

Her mouth went dry. Surely he didn't mean...

"Not that." Jesus. He was burning up. "Lotsa people come here just to feel other people's eyes on 'em. They like it. Showin' off. Feels good bein' wanted."

"Not to me. Not like _that_. I just want to watch. The only eyes I want near me are yours." He tried to ignore the hot stick of satisfaction following that little confession.

When he'd made the offer to take her here, he hadn't imagined her dressed like _that_. While it was fairly conservative compared to the attire of the average female patron, she wore her innocence like a banner and that was going to garner all sorts of unwanted attention.

"That lady was right. You look delicious. It's gonna be a steady stream of people askin' permission to touch ya."

"It is?" She wasn't convinced.

"I would."

"Really?"

"Hell yes."

"I don't want that. Not from strangers. If I could just watch alone with you, that's what I'd choose." It was possible, but he knew what would happen if he took Marie to one of the rooms with a red door and arranged for them to watch a private sex act together. His control was nowhere near that good. It was possible he wouldn't even be able to keep a lid on it in a crowd, and he wasn't about to manipulate her into anything she wasn't ready for. Hell, he wasn't even sure he'd do if she came to him of her own free will. Not here. Not tonight. Not with the deck so stacked against her.

"I can fix it for ya, if you want."

"Fix it?" Logan nodded. "What are you gonna do, pee a circle around me so that everyone who comes by knows I'm the property of the Wolverine?"

"Somethin' like that." She'd been teasing but it actually hadn't been all that far from the mark.

"Okay."

"Just like that?"

"I trust you."

She shouldn't. Not with what was running through his head. But it pleased him that she did.

"C'mere then." He pulled her close by the tails of her scarf. "Take your coat off and turn around."

What was he going to do, put his coat on her instead? That idea felt a little Mayberryish for someone like Logan. She did as he said, trembling a little as she felt him step closer behind and brush her hair aside. She caught his slight intake of air as all her creamy skin came into view. Her insides felt like jelly. The warm heat of his breath tickled her neck and her eyes widened when she realized he was lowering his head.

"You gonna give me permission to touch you?" he whispered silkily, pulling the iridescent loop of her scarf from her neck with one thick finger.

Marie nodded, her throat suddenly too tight to speak.

It felt like forever before he lowered his mouth that final distance. He breathed her in, tongue flicking along his lip, so close he could almost taste her.

She felt his teeth where her nape joined her shoulder, lips pulled back so her skin couldn't hurt him. Just there, on that spot below the black ribbon he'd tied earlier. The pressure increased. "Mmmm..." It slipped out before she could stop it.

A growl rose in his throat and he suddenly bit down hard.

Her hum of pleasure became a clipped shriek of pain.

"Ow!" She jerked from his grasp but he didn't let her go far, checking the motion with an iron grip on her hips as she thrashed in his teeth. The sudden pain of the stinging bite quickly became something else, something slippery and hot; a creamy rush she couldn't stop even if she wanted to. She pressed her thighs together, very aware of the warm wetness between them. Logan jerked against her in response and the bite became wilder. Sharper. The urge to move back into him and rub against his big body was strong. His tongue came next, bold and strong as he flattened it and dragged it sensually over the mark he'd just made. "Unnngh….." It was hot and wet and made goose bumps rise over her whole body. The fleeting touch was quick enough that it didn't trigger her skin, but not nearly long enough for either of them.

He made a low sound she'd never heard before; a primal growl that was unapologetically male.

When she looked back over her shoulder at him, his hazel eyes gleamed golden. The Wolverine was very close to the surface. She'd only seen that look a scant handful of times; and only then in the heat of battle. Never like this, smoldering with something beyond the edge of human words.

"L-Logan?"

"It's still me, kid." But only just. He stepped back to look at his handiwork, rubbing a thumb over it for good measure. The indent was deep. He hadn't meant to break the skin, but his canines were sharper than most and he'd been unable to resist the wildness that had risen up in him at the feel of her in his teeth. The taste of her in his mouth flavored with a hint of copper made it very difficult to keep control. Satisfaction curled through him, thick and heavy. It pooled between his legs, a sultry persistent throb. In a few minutes, the stinging indentation on her skin would rise up into a vivid red wheal, branding her as his. He liked the idea of that far too much.

"You bit me," she said, reaching for the easier words because what she'd really wanted to say was, _'Do it again.'_

He seemed to hear it anyway.

"I did and you liked it." And fuck if he hadn't wanted to do it from the first moment she'd walked in his door tonight and asked to watch him shave.

"So did you."

He didn't deny it. "Everyone who sees it'll know you're mine." The stark honesty of his words shook them both. "It should stop all but the most determined."

Wait. What? Had he done it because he'd wanted to or merely to keep the others away? Everything with him was always so confusing.

"You _licked_ me." She couldn't even wrap her head around that.

"You needed lickin'." She shuddered again and not just because nobody had ever licked her before.

"Why?"

Because he wanted to.

That reply probably wouldn't be smart. Focusing on the words, on answering the way a man would, was helping push back the animal. It was clawing at him, driving him to put his mouth on her and taste her again. To push her down on the floor and rip away the satin and leather so he could lick and bite and spread that luscious scent over them both. He shoved the wildness back, panting a little with the effort. It didn't help. He could taste her in the air. A sweet musky tease that made it all too easy to imagine pushing her legs apart and tasting her the way he really wanted.

"'Cause this club is for people like us. Mutants mostly. Some humans. It should keep anyone with feral senses away. It ain't the best scent to ward off another male, but it'll do for tonight."

"Not the best scent...?" In a flash, she suddenly realized there was another, much more intimate scent that would undeniably mark her as belonging to him. Sweet smokin' Jesus. She turned unsteadily in his arms.

The golden light was back in his eyes. "Do I really need to tell ya, darlin'?"

Marie shook her head 'no' and bit her lip, pushing down her glove and silently offering up her arm in response. He smiled at the goose bumps on her milky white skin and carefully, deliberately, wound the scarf back around her neck, arranging it to show off his bite.

"Me too, only one really big one instead of a thousand little ones." He wasn't going to push her, but he wasn't about to deny the beast his due. He damn sure wanted her to know what she did to him. He knew what he did to her. It sat smoky-sweet on the back of his tongue, even now.

_Ah, God._ The world felt very spinny.

She risked a quick look and was aware he'd probably notice. He did. She saw a flash of teeth that didn't quite give the impression of smiling and she was confused by the sudden urge to sink to her knees before him. Her mouth watered. He made no move toward her but he didn't shield himself from her view, either. He welcomed her eyes on him. The restrictive denim hid nothing. He was rock hard.

Her fingers twitched with the unconscious desire to touch him and his jaw clenched as he fought the Wolverine for control.

Marie cleared her throat softly. "Wow. That's quite a-"

A warning growl rumbled in his chest.

"Compliment," she finished, trying for a brazenness she didn't really feel. She felt vulnerable. Wild. Reckless and on the edge of something she didn't quite understand. It scared her and drew her closer with each breath. Her heart beat wildly in her breast, yet as naïve as she was, something inborn told her to stop pushing him. They were too close to the flashpoint.

"I was gonna go with 'quite a comment on my sanity' but I like yours better."

Her answer was to smooth her glove back up before lifting her fingers to touch the mark he'd made on her neck. He closed his eyes, shaken that had been her response.

"Don't touch it," he said gruffly, pushing her hand from her neck with a rough shove.

He was going to lose it if she did.

Shock and surprise he could deal with. Even the sweet rush of desire. But approval? That was the slipperiest slope when it came to her. It always had been.

Setting her from him, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Christ, he needed a drink. "Don't put your coat back on, darlin'. Let 'em all see it." He touched the mark again, a fleeting brush of his thumb that denied her skin the pleasure of his power. He tried to ignore her shiver. It was a losing battle. His voice dropped. "I know you're nervous, but it's just a buncha regular folks havin' a good time watchin' somethin' hot. You'll be safe with me. You just keep your chin up and walk in there like you fuckin' own it." He swallowed. "They'll look, yeah... because, god_damn_, baby." She was perfection. "But they'll keep their distance if you wear it real proud."

She nodded and he started the elevator again. They rode in silence for long moments.

Finally, Marie spoke. "Did you mean what you said to that jerk, downstairs?"

That he was going upstairs with the hottest woman who'd ever walked into this place.

The door opened and he slid the heavy grill aside before placing his hand possessively on the small of her back.

"Yeah, kid. Every word."

* * *

Up next: **Under Pressure**. Marie and Logan wind up in a private alcove and another line in the sand gets blurred…


	20. Under Pressure

Logan felt Marie tense under his palm as they stepped from the elevator into the club. The atmosphere was dark and womb-like, lit indirectly with warm amber lights that cast deep chocolate shadows in the long hall. Music pumped around them, competing - yet strangely harmonious sounds - from the East and West chambers. Everywhere the scent of spice. Arousal colored everything. People in twos and threes and little clusters, talking and drinking and laughing. Aside from the exotic scent and the electric presence of the feral man at her side, at first blush it seemed quite similar to one or two of the other upscale clubs she'd been to with Jubes and Remy.

Or it was until a striking woman passed by. She was wearing a glittering collar, black satin toe shoes with a red sole, and nothing else. It was her transparent iridescent wings that held Marie's attention, more so than the small breasts with dark nipples and her strangely faceted eyes. And the fact that there was a handsome, swarthy man holding the end of her leash. It appeared to be made from the same black satin ribbon that bound her toe shoes to her lithe legs. Logan looked twice too and felt his lip quirk into a grin. He expected to find the same look on Marie's face and was surprised to see a much different expression reflected there.

"Kid?"

"I think I need a drink," she said woodenly, half wondering if she might also need a paper sack to breath into. She was standing at the edge of the abyss.

"You okay?"

Their eyes met.

Marie shook her head. "No."

Logan was a little surprised by her reaction. There was a sliver of disappointment, too. But tonight was not about him. He pushed it down deep. He'd expected the Rogue to come out of the elevator swinging, chin high and blazing like a lioness on the hunt. He had not expected a hesitant, wide-eyed Marie. Frankly, he'd expected more and he mentally adjusted his expectation of the evening downward a few notches as he guided her into one of the many cozy, private alcoves lining the hall.

Her scent jacked up as she noticed a glass bowl tucked discretely away into a niche in the wall. It was lit softly from below and held colorful assortment of condoms in all varieties, individual packets of lubricant and other random goodies, from massage oil to finger cots, ready for whatever the occupants of this small space might imagine to do to each other.

"You wanna go?" he asked softly, wondering how smart it was to have brought her here to begin with. She was a good kid and a nice girl. He should have known better, but she was also the Rogue; a wild young woman on the threshold of understanding the vast power her ripening sexuality would bring. This might be a little advanced for her now, but he knew her better than anyone. Someday the untouchable girl before him would appreciate what he'd tried to give her here tonight.

Leave? "No." She swallowed, nervously fidgeting with the seam on her glove like she did when she was really wound up about something. He knew her tells. "I just…."

"Too much?"

"No. Not really." Her voice grew softer. "I… I like it…" The sensual vibe, the open sexuality, the shameless hedonism of it all. She approved. Heartily.

That had his brows jumping halfway up his face.

"It's just…." She took a deep breath. "I'm scared."

Most people would have tried to placate her with hollow words. _You'll be fine. You'll like it. Just give it a chance._ Logan touched the shiny fall of her ponytail instead, his eyes intent on hers. That spark of awareness was between them like always, making things even more awkward.

"Scared'a what?"

He was surprised when she slid her arms around him and hugged him, resting her cheek against his broad chest like a child. It was sweet rather than sexual and spoke to the deep trust between them. He liked it, even though made him more uncomfortable than an overt pass would have. He was not her father. He understood she'd needed that feeling of safety and security from him for a long time, but things had been changing for a while now. They were at the edge of something that shook them both. He suspected it was that, rather than anything she'd seen, that had her trembling against him.

"Come on, darlin'. Talk." He hugged her tighter, tucking her head under his chin.

"I feel weird."

"Weird how?"

"Like I should be worried that I'll do or say something embarrassing or that I won't like what I see or hear…. or find out about myself tonight," she felt him squeeze her gently at that soft admission, "Or that you won't like it, either." He opened his mouth to protest but she stopped him with a touch. "But it's not really any of that."

"No?"

"No. Mostly I'm just worried tonight will change things between us…. and not in a good way."

Another man might have said: _It won't_. Logan spoke the truth instead. "You can't be a kid forever. Little girls grow up. Things are gonna change. Ain't no way around that." That she'd asked him to take her here tonight told him she was as ready for things to change as he was, even if the change made them both uncomfortable. "But whatever you find out, whoever you turn out to be when you're done figurin' this shit out, you'll always be my Marie."

She didn't lift her head from his chest. "You promise?"

"Yeah. I promise." He felt her smile against his chest and knew she was thinking about that night on the train too. "How you feel about sex ain't gonna change that." It was just a side of her he didn't yet know. Maybe he'd never know it. Maybe it was enough to help make it safe for her to know it for herself. He'd promised to take care of her and he intended to do that until this stupid body of his finally gave up its last breath.

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him if that included her wanting sex with him, but she chickened out at the last moment. "Your Marie?" she asked. "What does that even mean?"

"Means you're mine to take care of, like I said."

He felt her face fall a little before she pasted on a bright smile and pulled away from him. She was profoundly grateful for however he wanted to be in her life. "Thanks, sugar." Not many people had men like him in their lives. Friendship and loyalty that was deeper than blood. They had a visceral, intimate bond that defied explanation. Why wasn't that enough? She should be more appreciative instead of wishing he wanted a different kind of connection with her.

Logan caught her arm before she could step from the privacy of the curtained alcove to the more public environment of the club, and moved closer to her. The energy crackled anew between them and this time it wasn't at all paternal.

He could still taste her – could still feel the wild burn of the Wolverine in his blood. It was difficult to shunt him aside. She needed to talk now and that part of him simply wanted to put his hands on her ass, drag her to him and rub that sweet wet place against his crotch until she understood the inescapable truth in a way no words could ever drive home.

More maddening still, he could tell she heard the wild call in her blood, too.

She had answered him. It was in the slight deference in way she stood. The tilt of her head. The subtle arch of her spine. The flutter of her fingers. The welcome in her intoxicating scent. It was there in her very breath. The cadence changed for him, sweet tremulous expectation. And,_ Christ_, that sound she made when he put his mouth on her… Her body cried out to him. Nature demanded an answer. Every part of her screamed she was ready… and yet, still, she hesitated.

He heard that, too. And so he pushed aside his need. She needed his understanding now, and his guidance rather than his passion.

"Hey, you don't gotta make that face. It ain't like that." It wasn't obligation he felt. It was love. He still wasn't sure what kind, but that's what it was. It couldn't be anything else. "There's lotsa ways to take care of someone, kid." Physically. Emotionally. Sexually...

That got her attention.

"You changing the deal on me?"

Logan huffed in amusement. "That deal's been changin' since day one."

"It has?"

"Sure." He'd always tried to give her what she needed. As she'd changed through the years, so had that connection and the things he was willing to do - or not do - for her. "Nothin' stays the same forever. All anyone can do is roll with it."

"Is that what tonight's about?"

"Mosta it is about you. I wantcha to get what you need outta tonight. Have fun. Go a little crazy. Give me a hard time. Whatever. But some of it's about that, yeah." And some of it was about him. About what he needed.

"Defining new boundaries?" God, he was so close. She could feel his body heat and smell the tobacco on his skin. Nobody ever willingly stood this close to her. Not with this much skin exposed. It made her very aware of the bite on the back of her neck. And of the slick wetness between her legs.

"Somethin' like that."

"Like what," she whispered breathlessly.

His low chuckle broke the spell. "Dunno. I have no fuckin' idea how this night's gonna end." That was the pure, unvarnished truth.

"Me either." She punched his arm. "But that's half the fun, right?"

Logan rolled his eyes. "If you say so."

"But you're saying you're up for it if things change a little?"

He grunted. "Letcha on the bike, didn't I?"

"You did."

"That not clue you in?"

"Oh!" There went her eyes again, wide as saucers.

"Relax, darlin'. Tonight we're just two friends out for a good time." This situation was rapidly getting out of hand. He wanted things to change, sure, but not all in one night and he didn't want her to have any expectations that would lead to disappointment later. "Baby steps, huh? This night is not gonna end up behind a red door for either of us." Even if she wanted it, the Wolverine was much too close to the surface.

The Rogue twinkled at him from behind her eyes. "Your loss, sugar."

"Mmph."

Marie understood what he'd left unsaid there and she was glad. She was excited he was ready to let her grow up a little, but she wasn't remotely ready for things to change so much so fast. Right now it was enough to know that he'd still be there for her no matter what happened tonight. Nothing had been settled between them, and she was still nervous as hell about what this night might bring... but now it felt good, exciting instead of like a hard lump in her stomach.

She gave a little shimmy. "It doesn't matter to me anyway, sugar."

"Yeah?"

"I said I wanted a cave and furs by the fire." Her eyes flashed at him. "Last I checked, caves don't have red doors…"

"Jesus," he muttered, shaking his head and reaching for the curtain. She wasn't the only one who could use a drink.

"Where you goin', cowboy?"

It was the tone in her words that stopped him rather than the words themselves.

"Waterin' hole." He didn't really want to lose the taste of her from his mouth, but he needed something bracing to help chain his slipping control.

She giggled. "Uh-uh. I'm not done with you yet…"

"That right?" He liked her sexy, playful tone all too much. He turned to face her, even though he knew he shouldn't.

"Why don't you take your hand off that curtain and find out?"

* * *

Up next: **Nothin' but a Good Time**. Condoms. Body glitter. Honey dust. The Rogue is curious. The Wolverine's not giving up any intimate details unless he gets some in return...


	21. Nothin' but a Good Time

Author's note: Sorry about the delay in posting, y'all. RL kicked my butt this week. I'll do better. :) Onward!

* * *

"Logan?" Marie's question stopped his slow egress.

"Yeah, kid?"

"You ever been in one of these little alcoves with someone before?" When he hesitated, her eyes glittered with triumph. "The truth, straight up. No chaser." That was their deal. Up to a point, anyway. She was dying to know what he paid for behind those red doors upstairs, but one could only push the Wolverine so far.

"Yes," he said simply, hoping it would be enough. It wasn't. He could tell by the look on her face that it wasn't. "No details."

"Fine by me. I don't wanna know what you did with her." She giggled. "Or him," she teased. "Or _them_. Whatever." She waggled her brows at him.

"Fuck's sake," he growled, half annoyed and half amused at her playing.

Her nimble fingers dipped into the bowl of pretty sex aids and he felt a prickle of sweat begin to gather. The little foil wrappers gleamed like colorful bits of confetti between the bright packets of lubricant and other assorted items. She fingered them, lifting one from the bowl. "Hmm… coconut." Her eyebrow rose and she tossed it back in favor of another. "Cherry… well, that's fitting." It too rejoined the bowl. "Vanilla." That made her laugh. There was nothing vanilla about tonight. He saw her reach for a glow in the dark condom and huffed softly in exasperation.

"There a point here somewhere?"

"Just wondering if you used anything from this bowl of goodies, sugar."

The curtained alcove suddenly felt small and airless. She would ask him that, the minx. She clearly expected a reply if the look on her face was any indication. Her scent slid from nervous to the spicy tang of mischievousness. The silence grew longer, heavier and more oppressive.

Just when she didn't think he'd answer her, he leaned forward, his big hand sifting through the bowl until he found what he was looking for.

He pressed it into her fingers. The gold foil gleamed against the black of her glove, the words jumping out at her. Extra large. Ribbed. Lubricated. A second packet followed. Black and red this time. Deep Throat Mints: Wintergreen.

Her brazen confidence waivered as her knees went a little weak at the mental picture that pair of items suggested. Her mouth watered and everything went a little fuzzy around the edges.

"Breathe, kid."

She drew in a deep breath through her nose and let it out slowly, giving him an unreadable look. He wondered if maybe he shouldn't have risen to her bait for about half a second until she grinned at him and tucked the condom inside the top of her green corset. "Always prepared. Isn't that what you taught me?" And damn her if she didn't wink at him before opening the mints and trying one.

"Jesus fuck, Marie."

"Mmmm…. tingly."

The cool wintery scent of wintergreen triggered that old memory and Logan struggled to keep it together. This place was too private. He needed a change of venue and a stiff drink. Soon.

"That's the general idea, darlin'."

Pursing her full lips, she sucked in a slow breath through her mouth, shivering at the cooling sensation on her lips and tongue. She could only imagine what that delicious tingling would be like on more sensitive body parts. "I can see why you liked it."

"Brat." He swatted her butt and grinned, amused by her antics. That night they'd both used the mints on each other first and the condom had followed for the penetrative sex afterwards, but that was one detail too far. He was already dancing all over the line and they hadn't even made it to the show yet.

Marie, however, seemed determined to obliterate the line entirely.

"Maybe I do want some details, sugar. You do owe me a sex story, after all."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yep. From that night on your deck, remember? I told you all about David and Bobby and the stories I write..."

_And the overpriced piece of silicone_, his unhelpful mind supplied. Did she use it and think of him? Gasp and squeeze down on it and call out his name? Jesus.

"But I don't remember you givin' up any details in return."

She was right. His brain had pretty much stopped at _'I write erotica' _and then she'd gone and had a soak in his tub and whatever he'd planned on saying in return had suddenly taken a back seat to visions of milky white skin and iridescent bubbles that covered nothing. Fuck all. His patience didn't extend to his fantasy life.

"Marie—" he warned.

"Cat got your tongue, sugar?"

"Mmph." Not a cat. A Rogue.

"Well, we know she was here…" she dropped to a crouch in front of him. Not exactly on her knees but close enough to ring his bell. She didn't touch him. She touched herself instead, running those gloved hands lightly along her sides and over her thighs. She actually had the audacity to blow him a cheeky kiss as she sucked in another deep breath to enjoy the minty tingle on her tongue. The scent of wintergreen spiced the air along with their growing arousal. "And given the other thing you pressed into my hand…"

Extra large. Ribbed. Lubricated. Her whole body shuddered.

Marie rose and faced him before putting a booted foot on the wall just outside his hip. His eyebrow rose. She giggled. "Hmm… maybe not. Maybe it was more like this…"

She slowly lowered her foot and then turned, presenting him with her back and then bending forward ever so slightly as she looked back at him mischievously over her shoulder.

Bared neck. Naked shoulders. Slender waist. The soft swell of her hips. Long legs encased in buttery soft suede. A feast for the senses.

The amused look had faded from his sharp features, replaced by a much more predatory expression. He was still silent, but his eyes were wild.

"That's it," she said softly. "That's how it was…" From behind with her face turned away from him so he could imagine another woman in her place.

He nodded. Once. The cozy little alcove suddenly felt much too small.

Jesus. She should know better than to present her ass to him like that. Swaying before him with that little shimmy that bypassed everything and went right to the primal part of his brain. Something in him snapped.

"Hands on the wall," he growled.

Her eyes were wide as dinner plates, but she complied with the raspy order instantly.

As she bent forward just that small distance, it put even more focus on her buttocks and hips. He bit his lip and tasted blood, hot and coppery on his tongue. The Wolverine surged against the chokehold keeping him chained.

He kicked her feet apart with his boot and stepped up behind her, still not touching her, but close enough that she could feel the heat and energy rolling off him in waves. He leaned in and put his hand on the wall above hers, caging her without so much as a single touch.

Like that. _That's_ how it had been with the woman that night — her hands braced so he could go hard. One of his hands on the wall for leverage. The other on her hip to keep her right where he wanted. No words were necessary. Their respective positions said it all.

Marie met his eyes over her shoulder and they flashed gold at her, wild as she'd ever seen him. _Shit._ You didn't play around with someone with that much sexual energy and expect him to rein it in at a moment's notice.

She canted her neck to appease him, deference without submission, as she slowly pulled her hair to the side, revealing the mark he'd made before turning to face him. They stared at each other, breathing erratically as they both tried to calm the wildness in their blood.

"How many?" she teased to break the spell. Better for the moment to slide into something playful than something neither of them were really ready for. Not yet, but soon.

He blinked, slowly coming back to himself. "Partners or orgasms?"

She laughed at the crude question and flushed red. "Logan!"

"Heh." He waited while she gathered her courage to answer him. He knew she would. It didn't take long.

"Orgasms."

"Two." Just enough to take the edge off before he went upstairs and lost himself completely.

"Yours or hers?"

"Mine."

She was bright red now, but it didn't stop her from answering him back. "How many did she have?"

"Dunno," he said honestly. "Didn't count 'em."

She was momentarily struck mute by the stark honesty in his cavalier answer. "Well, that implies there were enough to lose track of at some point, so I'd say you made a decent showing, regardless. And God knows, I'll never look at wintergreen the same way again..."

He grunted and the expression on his face was priceless as she ducked under his outstretched arm.

"Hey, you shouldn't dare the Rogue, sugar." She turned and put her hand on the curtain. A firm hand on her hip stopped her slow retreat.

"Not so fast, darlin'." He shouldn't be doing this. He knew it and yet he couldn't seem to stop himself. "Your turn."

"My what?"

"You don't get an answer tonight without givin' one up in return." He gestured to the bowl. He'd told her what items he'd used. Now it was her turn.

"Oh, please. You know I've never—"

"Hell, darlin', I know 'you never'." Both their bodies were screaming that she'd 'never'. "You still owe me an answer, though."

"Is that right?" She was staring at him intently now.

"If you want any more outta me tonight, then yeah. That's the deal."

She thought that over.

"Alright. I'll play."

_Good girl._

He nodded. Just once.

"Pick then."

"Pick?"

"If you felt like takin' a walk on the wild side, what wouldya pick to play with?" Between them, the bowl gleamed with possibilities.

"Sugar, anyone who would even consider being up close and personal with my skin is already walkin' on the wild side, but fair is fair, after all..."

Logan grunted at that and crossed his arms over his chest while he waited for her to inspect the contents of the bowl.

"Stubborn," she giggled, looking over at his scowl.

"Deflectin'," he shot back, frowning as he watched her pick up a small packet of edible body glitter.

"No?"

"Fuck no."

"The Wolverine doesn't glitter?"

That shit not only got everywhere, it tasted bad too. But he wasn't about to admit that. Not only was it oversharing, but her clever mind would find a way to use it against him eventually.

He said nothing, but she enjoyed the little tic in his jaw all the same.

"I was only kidding about the glitter. This is more my speed, sugar." She fingered a small tin of honey dust, tickling her cheek with the feather included for applying it. He should have guessed. She'd always had a bit of a thing for feathers. Her skin was extremely sensitive. He'd always just thought she liked the feel of them. What he'd seen as a sensual quirk of hers was rapidly becoming sexual.

She gave her cheek one last stroke before pressing it into his palm with a blush that went all the way down.

God, he loved her brazen sass when that side of her came out to play. "S'got potential." He gave her an appraising look. "That it?"

In answer to his amused taunt, she was tempted to pull a condom from the strip of three she knew he carried in his pocket, but she thought better of it the last minute.

"And this, of course." Her eyes flashed playfully as she fished the gold foil packet she'd tucked into her cleavage a moment ago and pressed it back into his fingers.

He chuckled at her sheer audacity. The foil was warm from her body, redolent with her scent. Logan repressed a shudder. He could feel the warmth between his long fingers and the urge to press it against his lips was strong.

"Mmph."

Her eyes widened as he slipped the condom and the honey dust into his pocket with a wink instead of tossing them back into the bowl.

"Well now, cowboy. What's a girl supposed to make of that, I wonder?" The Rogue's sassy smile lit up her face.

"Heh." He tweaked her ponytail. "Nothin'. Girls don't get a say. Women, however…" His breath whooshed out as she elbowed him in the ribs.

They laughed, but they were both aware that was part of the underlying tension between them. She was in that no man's land; not really a girl, but not fully a woman either. Marie understood that youth and fertility had power and that men, especially men with heightened feral instincts, responded strongly to it. She was twenty-one, not seventeen.

He was the father she'd lost. The big brother she'd never had. The best friend she'd desperately wanted. The safe harbor she'd needed. The only one who wasn't afraid to get close to her, emotionally or physically. That was a lot to risk for two people who had pretty pathetic track records, romantically speaking.

The spark had always been there, from the first moment in Laughlin City. It was still there, but now it felt different. Exciting instead of just scary and uncomfortable.

They were standing together on the edge.

Logan opened the curtain and they pushed off into flight.

* * *

Up next: **Dancing in the Dark**. From the alcove to the West Chamber. Or maybe that should be from the frying pan into the fire? Logan and Marie settle in for the show…


	22. Dancing in the Dark

Logan stopped in the hall, his eyes on Marie.

"Where to, kid?"

"Isn't this your show, sugar?"

"Heh. Nah. S'up to you. Willow said Naamah and Blaze in the East Chamber and a mixed couple in the West Chamber."

"I don't even know what that means."

"Mixed? Human and mutant, darlin'."

"Hmm…" Her face was thoughtful. "If you were me, what would you pick?"

He shrugged. "Depends on whatcha have a taste for."

"A taste for…?" her voice trailed off.

"Girls? Guys? Humans? Mutants? Vanilla or somethin' wilder?"

"Oh." She considered his words. "You got any wisdom to offer here, Mr. Regular Room?"

"Heh. Watch it." He drew in a breath and let it out slowly, considering what he wanted to say. And how to say it. "I've seen Naamah and Blaze before. Good show. Blaze is a little bit of a thing. Short dark hair, pale skin. Curvy. Naamah's tough and lean. Looks like some kinda demon, red skin, yellow eyes and black horns comin' up here." He touched his forehead and moved his hand up high over his head.

"Wow."

"Yeah. I dunno about Naamah, but Blaze is a little firebug. When she gets goin', blue and white flames engulf them both."

"Sounds… hot."

A chuckle rumbled in his chest at her obligatory joke. "Yep. But they're both girls." His voice dropped and he put his lips by her ear. "So if you wanna see..." Penetration. He didn't say it, but the pause implied it. "A man and a woman—"

"I do." The words were quiet, but emphatic. "With you."

There was that heat again, racing under his skin. Shit.

The urge to bite her was back too. He settled for rubbing his thumb over the bite on the back of her neck. It was red and raised now. It looked like a brand. He wondered if that's how it felt.

Her smile was positively predatory now.

Ah, fuck. He was going to enjoy this.

"You ready for that drink now, kid?"

"You bet, cowboy."

Jesus. She all but purred the words at him before she turned and walked away.

He followed her, enjoying how the black laces at the back of her corset swung in counterbalance to the sway of her hips. The look she tossed him over her shoulder said she could feel his eyes. And that she approved.

Her flare of bravado was fleeting. She hesitated in the archway as she took in the view through the indigo voile curtain.

Logan steadied her with a touch; a solid, warm palm on the small of her back. "Hey. It's just a buncha folks watchin' a show n'havin' a good time. S'nothin' more than that." She still hesitated. He leaned in and put his mouth by her ear. "You're safe with me, darlin'." Under his hand, he felt her body unspool as the tension bled out. He stroked her back with his knuckles, an instinctive response to her unconscious show of trust. She leaned into the caress, a trusting response of her own, given the danger that lay dormant in the knuckles at her back.

He parted the curtain and led her inside, enjoying the expressions ghosting over her features as her eyes swept the large, circular room. A raised dais dominated the center of the space. The wood was glossy and dark. Tables surrounded the platform, radiating out from the center. Semi-private, curtained booths ringed the periphery of the room. There was a sleek frosted glass bar by the archway. The clear shelves behind the counter were lit from below, showcasing the various bottles of spirits. It looked more like a piece of art than a working bar.

Everything was done in tones of deep midnight, rich indigo and vivid cobalt. It was like stepping into the night sky. Pinpoints of fiber optic lights twinkled overhead in the artfully painted ceiling; the milky way on a cloudless night. An eclectic mix of carefully chosen textures added to the effect; crushed velvet, the exotic sheen of silk, smooth navy leather, brushed stainless steel accents and cold, slick glass. Long purple shadows swallowed the patrons furthest from the dais. The light was brighter in the center of the room, illuminating a lone dancer slinking around a silver pole on the stage.

Logan guided Marie to an empty table. Tucking themselves away in a private booth and knocking back drinks while watching something erotic was a little too much like playing with fire, given his current state of mind. He knew she'd probably be more comfortable there, but even his predatory patience had limits. Marie didn't seem to notice. Her attention was on the dancer.

A soft-spoken woman dressed in simple black came to take their drink order. She almost blended into the background.

"Would you like a drink this evening, miss?"

The server had to ask twice before Marie heard her.

"Yes, please. Do you have any small batch, private label bourbon?"

"We do. Basil Hayden, Knob Creek, Four Roses and Woodford Reserve."

Logan wondered if she'd tried enough of them to have a preference. Basil was the most delicate, easiest for a novice to appreciate. He preferred a spicier bourbon with caramel notes and a long finish.

"Sugar?"

The touch of deference to his greater experience was even better than the idea of Marie with a sophisticated palate. She wanted his direction. Fuck all. Inexperience shouldn't be an aphrodisiac. He felt the Wolverine stir.

"Woodford."

Marie turned to the server. "The Woodford. A double, please."

"And for you, sir?"

"Same. Bring the bottle back with ya to the table, honey." Whatever they wound up watching and talking about later, he did didn't want an interruption every time one of them needed a refill. Not with his tolerance for alcohol being what it was. That probably wasn't the smartest decision, but then again he was past the point of giving a fuck tonight. Restraint had gone out the window about the same time Marie had turned and presented him with her sweet, round ass.

"Yes, sir." The server vanished as quietly as she'd arrived.

Their drinks appeared a few minutes later, along with a bottle. Logan was watching Marie. Marie was still watching the dancer on the dais. She was exotic. Long and lean with mocha skin and wild kinky hair that surrounded her face like cloud. Her lips were wide and full. Her eyes were an acidy yellow-green; the pupils a black vertical bar that gave her beautiful features a reptilian feel.

It was the way she moved that was so compelling. She slinked around the pole; her body seemed to be able to articulate in ways no human ever could — a sinuous slithering that was both sensual and disconcerting. She was strong and freakishly flexible as she coiled and writhed to the earthy beat. Her nude body was toned and hairless with small, firm breasts and puffy nipples. Her feet were bare. There was a little golden bell on her ankle that jingled softly as she moved.

"Wow." The nudity didn't even make Marie uncomfortable. It seemed secondary to the beauty of the dancer's undulating movements.

Logan smiled into his drink. That was a good sign. "Like it?"

"I sure do. She's gorgeous."

Well, now. He hadn't expected that, though he wondered how much of her answer had to do with the stiff drink she'd just put away and how much had to do with the men in her head. As she'd gotten older, he began to be more and more curious about how the people she'd absorbed had affected her developing sexual tastes and if maybe that wasn't at least part of the reason she'd been a bit of a late bloomer. He couldn't imagine what sifting through all of that must have been like for her. At times, he'd barely managed to keep his own shit together and he didn't even remember most of his life. Logan refilled both their glasses generously.

"Heh."

"Jubes has been after me to take a pole dancing class with her at the gym for months. I've been blowing her off because I couldn't imagine how shaking my butt in hooker heels would be a decent workout, but now I think I might give it a try. That girl looks like she could kick all our asses."

"Mmph. She could _try_."

The Wolverine's surly answer made her laugh. "You mean you wish she would."

The dancer was close to finishing her routine. She was breathless now and as she opened her mouth and panted a little, Marie could see her tongue was slender and forked.

"Darlin', how many men you know who'd put somethin' in a viper's mouth they wanted back?"

"I don't know... Isn't there like some kinda scale for that sort of thing? The danger factor on one axis inversely proportional to how hot someone is? That flexibility's even giving _me_ ideas."

"Heh. Nah. The danger don't really factor in. Either you wanna or you don't. Simple as that."

"The danger doesn't factor in?" He could see why a girl with deadly skin might ask that question, however teasingly she delivered it. Logan's chest felt tight. There was hope all over how she asked that.

"Nope. Sometimes the danger just makes a hot woman hotter. But ain't really about the danger. It's about the woman. The rest is just details."

Logan wondered if he'd said too much. Probably, but he wasn't gonna lie to her. Not about that.

"So if you want her, you want her — no matter what?" _Like if she had poison skin?_ she thought. _Or was engaged? _her mind added unpleasantly.

"Yep." He almost qualified that with, 'As long as she ain't a kid,' but that wasn't entirely truthful. Occasionally he omitted certain details, but he never flat-out lied to her. The truth was the Wolverine had wanted her at seventeen. It had nothing to do with her age and everything to do with the connection they'd had right from the beginning. He hadn't given a shit she was just a kid; a thought that was profoundly disturbing given his appetite for sex and violence. "Ain't it that way for you? You either wanna or you don't?"

"It's not that easy." She definitely had wanted to with Logan. Right from the beginning. She definitely hadn't wanted to with Remy, despite his considerable effort, buckets of charm and pretty-boy looks. She'd _wanted_ to want to with Bobby. That's where it got confusing. "I'm not sure. I think sometimes what the heart wants and what the head wants are two different things."

"That's why I go with my gut. Less chance of fuckin' somethin' up that way."

Marie snorted into her drink. "Oh, please. You've made plenty of decisions with your head." He raised an eyebrow. "Just not the one on your shoulders..."

"Mmph." His face was his usual stoic mask, but above that hairy jaw, his eyes were dancing.

Around them the audience broke into applause as the dancer took a bow and blew a kiss to the crowd before leaving the platform.

"Elapidae, everyone! Wasn't she amazing?" An announcer had taken the stage with a cocky swagger and a smooth tongue. Behind him, the pole had retracted into the ceiling and the lights had changed from the cool green spotlight illuminating the stage to a more diffused central glow. "We've got a real treat for you tonight and an opening act bound to intrigue…"

* * *

Up next: **Cherry Pie**. Marie wears her innocence like a flag. Logan isn't the only interested party...


	23. Cherry Pie

Marie turned back to Logan, intent on finishing their conversation and was surprised when he rose. "Let's getcha a water, huh?" She was small and had already made a pretty good dent in her bourbon. She was going to need to pace herself a little. He intended this evening to last well into the small hours.

That made her laugh. "Sugar, you've gotta be the only man in here not tryin' to get his date tipsy."

"Nah," he teased. "You just got a mouth on ya when you're drunk, kid." And a propensity to speak her mind. Sometimes more than she should, and definitely more than was good for his sanity. And God help him, he _liked_ it.

"Got one on me when I'm stone cold sober too, cowboy." Her laughter was rich and warm.

She followed him to the bar, still not feeling like she wanted to be left alone with this much skin showing. It wasn't a lot by most people's standards, but for her it was a big deal. A baring of more than just skin, it was revealing a vulnerability in a way she never had before, and that was a fear that went far deeper than what her deadly skin could do. It probably wasn't her bravest hour, but it was what it was. He'd always made her feel safe. Tonight was no exception.

As Logan leaned in through the crush to order, the man to Marie's left watched her, his mouth quirking up under his full beard as he pushed his lean, muscular body away from the bar and turned her way. He was rugged and a little wild. Late thirties, early forties, maybe. His brown shoulder length hair was tied back haphazardly. There was a hint of gray at his temples and in his beard along his strong jaw that gave the impression of experience rather than age. He had a tattoo on his forearm, peeking out of his rolled up shirtsleeve.

His eyes were light and sharp, like the sea in winter. Marie felt the weight of them on her, and turned to look. In the darkened atmosphere of the club, it was impossible to tell if they were gray or green or blue. His pupils were slightly elongated, but it was more his demeanor and the way he moved that made her think of a big cat on the prowl.

He tipped his hat respectfully. "Ma'am." The slow, Mississippi drawl made her smile in spite of herself. It had been a long time since she'd heard a voice like _that_; one that immediately reminded her of home. She felt a surprising warmth in her chest as a rush of memories welled up unexpectedly. She hadn't been home - like _that_ - in years. Sharp and sweet. Old ghosts and happy memories of a life long abandoned. The 'ma'am' wasn't a sign of her age, but a sign of respect from a country boy whose mama had raised him right. Marie responded in kind automatically. Her mama had raised her right, too.

"Sir."

That boyish grin was back again, revealing two dimples in his cheeks under his beard. He didn't run into too many Mississippi girls this far north of the Mason Dixon line.

"Jackson?" he inquired, a thoughtful finger on his lip. It was rude, but with his senses, he'd been unable to keep from overhearing her earlier conversation or from drinking in the sweet smoky cadence of her words. She was a fine looking woman. Wide-eyed innocence trussed tight in a pretty green corset. He approved.

"Meridian."

Him, too. Didn't that beat all? He probably knew some of her kin. He wisely kept that reply to himself. He wasn't intimidated, but he didn't want to make trouble for her, and her man had that hard look that said he and trouble were old friends. The girl smelled good. Lush and sweet with a hint of… wintergreen?

The man's scent overlaid hers only superficially. Interesting. Who was he to her that he called a woman like that 'kid'? Not her lover, that much was certain. At least not yet. She was green as fresh grass. The accent tickling his ear had made him look twice, but he found his interest drawn back by the details, and by the intelligence sparkling in her wide, brown eyes. She had a good laugh, too. Throaty and rich. And ample breasts, made for a man's hands. There was a dusting of fine freckles on them that held his interest a heartbeat too long.

Logan's eyes narrowed at the interloper.

The man had already turned back to the bar, but he looked back over his shoulder at Marie. "You enjoy the show now, y'hear?"

"Go fuck yourself," Logan growled.

"Logan! He was just bein' polite." It was impossible to explain to someone what hearing your own accent reflected back felt like so far from home. Especially when that childhood feeling of safety and security was long gone. She could go back, but it would never truly be home again.

"Bullshit." Logan snorted. The man's words might have been polite, however his scent was anything but. Under the earthy musk of interest was a pitchy spice that said quite clearly that Logan wasn't the only man with feral instincts in the house tonight. Fucker. It was that, more than the words, that had made Logan bristle.

The bearded man's gaze swung from Marie to the rough man at her side, his sense of playfulness fading to cold assessment as he took her man's measure. He couldn't really blame him for the growl. If she was on his arm, he'd probably do the same, though he'd never be stupid enough to bring a woman like that into a place like this without claiming her fully, first. What was her man thinking? She wore her innocence like a dare. The bite on her neck barely gave him pause, but he wasn't free to hunt tonight. His dance card was full. His lip curled, flashing a bit of teeth at her man that was in no way a smile.

His boyish charm came back as he gave Marie one last look. "Ma'am." He set his drink down, touched two fingers to the brim of his hat and melted away into the plummy shadows.

"Asshole," Logan growled under his breath as they made their way back to the table.

Marie arched a brow at him. "You or him, sugar? He was just bein' nice." Logan chuckled at her naiveté.

"Trust me. There was no way what he was thinkin' was anythin' close to nice."

She laughed a little at that. "So you read minds now, too?"

Logan snorted and tapped his nose. "Don't have to."

"Please. He probably just heard my accent and wanted to say hello."

"Yeah. Right." Lord love her, she really didn't get it. "I toldya you'd have 'em comin' outta the woodwork tonight."

"Oh, come on." She was still a virgin at twenty-one. There was hardly a line of suitors knocking down her door.

"Darlin', you forgotten where we are? People who approach you here are only lookin' for one thing, and they're gonna assume if you're in a place like this lookin' like sin incarnate, that you're willin' to at least entertain the question when they ask if you wanna play."

"He just said hello. He was bein' sweet."

"Not that sweet. Your innocence is like catnip to a man like that." Irresistible. His choice of words was deliberate. He was too much a predator not to recognize it in another. The man's scent was broadcasting several things clearly; he was a mutant, a feral one at that, and he was definitely interested in Marie, despite his casual nonchalance.

Her face felt warm. It wasn't a rebuke so much as a lesson. He could see she got it now. Good. She'd do well to listen to him. He knew what he was talking about.

Marie was still thinking about it after they sat back down. Was a familiar accent really all that it was? If she was honest with herself, she supposed the interest of the leonine man felt good, provided she experienced it from the safety of Logan's personal space. He was quite handsome in a rugged sort of way and he'd had that underlying streak of wildness she'd always responded to. Definitely the sort of man she'd have had a drink with if she'd been by herself. What did that mean? And was Logan right? Was the man's interest really about more than their shared birthplace?

He hadn't really flirted with her and she'd barely said two words to him in return. But at the same time, she'd liked how it had made her feel for Logan to see another man, a man like _that_, take an interest in her, even if it was largely nonverbal. There was power there, but it was unfamiliar. She was ready to see herself in a new way and she was ready for Logan to see her in a new way, too.

"God." She felt foolish and her face was red and hot. She understood the draw of youth, but next to the sexually sophisticated women around her tonight, she felt inadequate in comparison. "I can't imagine how I must look."

Christ, if she only knew. It was because of the blush, not in spite of it. "Nah. Looks good on ya."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Like a virgin snowfall. Every man who looks atcha wants to be the first to leave a mark, darlin'." He was no exception. It made him feel frighteningly possessive.

Logan thought she'd blush more. He was surprised when she turned those piercing eyes on him instead. "I'm not sure I see it that way. What you said? That's not really about me exciting anyone. That's just about some guy wanting to be the first to, ah, plant a flag. He doesn't really care where he plants it, or who he plants it in, as long as he's _first_."

He frowned. Was that what she thought he was doing here? The thought of being present tonight, sitting with her while she experienced this erotic self-discovery, wasn't much different. The idea of being the man with her while she discovered those things excited and aroused him. It wasn't about being first, though. It was about being first with _her_. He'd never been with a virgin, at least not one he could remember. The idea itself wasn't titillating, but the idea of being a part of Marie's initiation into the world of adult pleasure was frighteningly compelling.

Her brows knitted together at the look on his face. "What?"

"Nothin'."

"I call bullshit."

"I just don't wanna be one more asshole with a flag, kid." That was hers to give, not his to take.

He was surprised when she threw back her head and laughed. The full-throated sound seemed to settle directly between his legs. "Are you kidding me? I'm practically covered in little Logan flags — and all of them make me smile."

"What the fuck?"

"You were there for a lot of my important firsts, sugar." A lot of them were pretty heavy so she didn't list them; her first time absorbing a mutant, first time touching a man, first real hug, first real emotional adult connection…. but he'd also taught her to how to fight, how to play poker and pool, how to do tequila shots, how to hotwire a car, how to drive a stick shift, how to kill man, how to defend herself, how to strip an engine — and a weapon. How to lay a floor and replumb a bathroom and build a deck. The list was endless. "I'm kinda excited about sharing this one with you… you know, if you're up for it." The serious look in her eye slid towards something else. Something hot and a little wild.

"What'd I tell ya about callin' a man on it, darlin'?" he teased. He wasn't actually hard, but their intimate banter felt good. Felt right.

Marie opened her mouth to respond but as she did, the lights went out, plunging the room into darkness…

* * *

Up next: **Take On Me**. Logan wishes Marie could appreciate the show's carnal delights the way he does, with all his enhanced senses. And then he realizes she can, all it would take is a little touch…

_Okay, y'all. I'm writing Logan and Marie's first time together. (Smut, and a lot of it. Hey, it's me, right?) Any song suggestions for that? Gold star to anyone who can guess the working chapter title. I'm putting out a call for smutty song inspiration because you know it's gonna be more than one chapter of sexytimes, right? Think of it like a smut station: KPWP playin' all your favorites. Less talk... more nookie... ;) _


	24. Take On Me

The darkness surrounded them, feeding the sense of expectation and excitement. Logan's keen senses easily caught the sound of movement on the stage. He could see just fine in the low light and smiled as he watched the props being set up and the couple taking their places. Marie sat at his side, still with anticipation and holding her breath.

A pale blue light winked into existence. A deeper cobalt light followed. They both grew in intensity until they lit the figures on the dais. The colors grew warmer, like a sunrise. First a rosy twilight and then warm peach. Music now. Soft and ethereal. The sound of birds and wind in the trees. A river. A cello. The light changed. Becoming dappled, like sunlight filtering through a canopy of trees.

A nude woman lay on sturdy wooden platform. It was low and smooth, perfectly suited to her sinuous form. A virile man with dark, unruly hair and a chiseled body knelt at her side. He was wearing only a pair of low-slung jeans and a knowing smile. The woman's long red hair spilled off the platform, a river of fire to the slick wood under the man's knees. A crimson silk blindfold covered her eyes.

He had a rope in his hand. More was coiled carefully, precisely, beside him on the floor. He was slowly dragging it down her skin. It made her shiver and her pulse speed. His was steady, rhythmic; his breathing carefully controlled.

They were both aroused and excited. Logan could smell it. Whether it was from what they were about to do or the fact they were going to do it with an audience present, or both; it was clearly affecting them. Blood and breath and expectation beating a sensual tattoo against his sensitive ears.

Logan put his lips to Marie's ear. "You hear that?"

"Hear what?"

Shit. He'd wanted her to be able to experience this like he did. With all his senses. He wanted her to be able to hear the gasps and feel the sounds against her sensitive skin, to catch every little movement with quick eyes and to smell the musky scent of their rising pleasure. To taste it in the air the way he could.

"Them. His breathin'. Her heartbeat." He knew she couldn't. He was a fool to think she would.

"Not all of us have your gifts, Logan." She rolled her drink in her palm, nervous and excited about what she might see tonight now that the proper opening show had started.

"You could if you wanted."

"What?" She turned away from the stage to meet his eyes.

"You could have 'em if you wanted." He let that settle a moment. "A little touch is all you'd need to take me in. "

Her breath caught. "Oh."

She had imagined the possibility of many different outcomes for this night of firsts with Logan, but that had never been among them. To take him into her? Like _that_? It was a different sort of penetration than she'd considered, and wholly thrilling. She had not expected the offer. Such a decadently intimate exchange. Her heart thumped wildly at the very idea.

"Won't hurt me none and it'd make it better for you."

"You sure?" She didn't want to cause him pain, but there was a tremulous excitement in her voice that she couldn't hide.

Logan didn't respond verbally. He took off his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeve instead, baring his thick forearm. He set it on the table between them, palm up in invitation.

He felt the sultry heat of her body as Marie leaned in, almost brushing against him but not quite. "You gonna give me permission to touch you, cowboy?" Her breath was sweet in his ear, warm and smoky from the bourbon.

Ah, Christ. He felt himself start to get hard. It was dark, but she'd notice it any minute now if she looked.

He nodded.

She shook her head, feeling her power as a woman stir, given a healthy shot in the arm by the fiery alcohol warming her insides. "No. Say it. I want to hear you say it."

Jesus fuck. She was burning him up. "Touch me."

He had expected her to slip off a glove and run a fingertip over his skin. He was not at all prepared for her to lower her head and nip sharply at his fingertip before ghosting her full, soft lips down his arm. They stopped on his pulse point. He felt her smile against his skin when his pulse raced under her lips. There was no hiding that.

The connection didn't open right away. It took a little while these days. Even after years of working on it, control still eluded her, but she had a good twenty seconds now before the pull began if she really concentrated. Tonight he could tell she wanted to make it last. There was no hiding that, either.

Her breath was hot on his skin. Those full, red lips pressed lightly against the inside of his wrist. The waiting was maddening. For one wild moment, he even imagined he felt the warm, wet flicker of her tongue... and then that electric tingle raced under his skin, a heady buzz lighting up all his senses before the draw began to pull at him.

She lifted her mouth almost instantly.

"You didn't get enough," he rasped. He wasn't even dizzy. Just rock hard from the buzz and the feel of her lips on his skin.

"I don't want to hurt you." She didn't, he knew, but her pupils were already blown wide. He was like a drug inside her. Ah, fuck. _Fuck_. That predatory feeling rose, hot and sharp.

He snorted. "Take more." It wasn't a request. She tried to turn his hand over and put her lips against his knuckles but he stopped her. "No." The unique musculature and metal covered bones under her fingers felt heavy and exciting. She could taste him on her lips. "Not there. They might come out…."

It was entirely possible his claws would spring out reflexively if her mouth was on him when the pull started again. Logan didn't want to hurt her and he wasn't sure he could control his reaction, or even retract them if they did emerge. Sometimes when that red haze took him, it was a while before he could regain enough of himself to force them to his will. And, Christ, it had never been like _this_. He was feeling wild and strangely out of control. He had decades of carnal experience on her and yet one simple touch had reduced him to ash.

This time she nuzzled her cheek into his palm, clearly luxuriating in the pleasure of physical touch before she pressed her lips back to his pulse point.

Logan counted to twenty-three, feeling the blood pound under her lips and between his legs before that sweet fire licked under his skin, rippling and drawing. The world faded away until it was just her lips on him and the delicious satiation of rushing into her, unchecked. It was not unlike the physical rush of an intense orgasm; he was pouring himself inside her, just in a different way.

It felt fucking good. And then he realized he could hear her.

She was speaking against his skin. Counting.

_One Mississippi… Two Mississippi…._

Chuckling, he stopped her at five, dizzy and breathless, but still quite able to stay in the chair despite his spinning head. He wasn't entirely sure how much of it was due to what she'd taken from him—and how much was due to _how_ she'd taken it.

_Goddamn. _

She was awash in sensation. The last two times he'd touched her, what she'd gotten was predominantly fear and regret, underscored by a deep pain that had no words. This time it was different. Warmer. Wilder. Playful with a hungry edge. A beautiful light inside her. "You okay?" she managed to push out, her concern for him overriding even the wild tumult of Logan's considerable gifts pulsing fiercely under her skin.

"Fuck yeah. Got a real good buzz goin' now, darlin'." That was the damn truth. It took a lot of alcohol to make him feel like this, and she'd accomplished it with a simple touch. It wasn't fading fast either, the way it did with bourbon or whiskey.

She'd forgotten what a rush his power was. So big and full inside her. Wild and exciting and familiar, too. "Mmm…. Thanks, sugar." She giggled, raking her gloved hands down his chest with a saucy wink. It felt so different with him. Fuller. Richer. Probably because his well was considerably deeper than most, but also because the Wolverine dwelled there, too. His energy was beautifully, unapologetically savage. "You fill me up real good." There was no mistaking that innuendo. Her hands lingered on his chest and then fell from him to press to her own body in amazement. "I love how you feel inside me."

Holy hell.

She'd clearly gotten a healthy dose of the Wolverine's disregard for social convention along with a shot of enhanced senses. He could see the golden glimmer in her eyes.

"Shit," he murmured, grinning back at her, quite unable to bring himself to be sorry for something he enjoyed so damned much.

"Yeah."

"You good?" He didn't need to nod towards her head. She knew what he meant.

"Hell, yes. Mmm… I feel so..." her hands wandered down her body, from her rib cage to her belly, pressing back against the fullness inside her. She had no words to express the feeling, but the way he watched her hands run over her body seemed to telegraph her meaning well enough, if the look on his face and the low rumble of approval in his chest was any indication.

They'd momentarily forgotten the show. A few sets of eyes had left the performers and were openly watching the two of them with more than a little curiosity.

A gasp from the woman on the platform drew back most of the wandering eyes, theirs included. The man on the stage was slowly, artfully, binding the woman with an intricate series of loops and knots. With every wrap of the thin hemp rope, the woman's heart beat faster.

"You hear it now?" he rasped into her ear. With his gifts coursing inside her, they both knew he didn't need to be so near to be heard. He _wanted_ to be close. Needed it, maybe.

Beside him, she nodded in the inky darkness, a smile turning up the corners of her mouth, enjoying his breath on her neck and the warmth of his big body next to hers.

"What's that scent?" she whispered softly.

"Dunno. Describe it." It could be anything. This place was a veritable cornucopia of smells.

"It's…." she closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. He did the same, wondering what had caught her attention. "..… wild… fecund. Like wet soil. Sort of musky-sweet? It kinda, I don't know, tickles… in here." She opened her eyes and tapped her head.

His teeth flashed in the darkness.

"That's arousal, darlin'."

It was spicy and earthy and made that place deep in his brain itch and burn. Sometimes it was intense and amazing. Other times it was annoying as fuck, like a splinter in his mind, driving him crazy. There were very few scents that had the power to make him completely lose focus. He couldn't concentrate at all when Marie was fertile. The Wolverine was much too primal not to respond to Nature's fierce demand; virility and vitality and that gloriously sweet promise in her scent, announcing her readiness to receive him. When she peaked, it was maddening. A fever in his blood. Hell, even the scent of her distinctive shampoo, cedarwood and lemongrass, was enough to distract him on the rare occasion he ran across someone else who used it.

"Oh, God."

"It ain't hard to tell 'em apart. Women are sweeter. Lighter. Fresher, like new grass. Musk and salt and sweat and honey."

"And men?" Her face was hot and her blood felt fluttery under her skin. Wild. Powerful. She was embarrassed, but also curious. It was exciting to talk with him like this. Not just like a woman, but speaking openly about topics he rarely discussed.

"Men are different. Scent's more base. Darker. Peaty. Yeast and moss and earth. Sorta salty-electric." Ejaculate had a distinctive scent that sent a very clear message to any creature with feral senses.

"Is—is it always like this?" She shivered, drawing in another delicious lungful of air scented with desire and underscored by leather, the lingering trace of tobacco smoke and the faint, woodsy scent of Logan's shaving soap. There was something underneath that, a scent she had no vocabulary to describe. Something that simply registered as _male_. It was primal and compelling, and reminded her of the day she stood on the beach in Cape Cod and watched a violent winter storm roll in. Salt and rain and power. She felt that same energy from Logan now. Another shudder went through her and she felt her nipples draw up, hard and aching.

"Nah. It's slightly different on everyone. Different but still, ya know, good. Some more'n others." Fuck not letting her know how he felt about _that _smell on her.

He inhaled deeply, wanting more of her distinctive scent. The base notes were familiar, musk and honey. But to him she also smelled like fresh snow and sunshine and the toffee-vanilla finish of good brandy. Smoky-sweet with a fiery kick that followed. Marie was cautious, but the Rogue took no prisoners. It was a one-two punch that did it for him every time.

The unspoken implication was there; that he knew what she smelled like aroused… and now they were both aware she knew that scent on him, too. He could see that knowledge burning brightly in her eyes.

"I like it," she offered quietly.

Satisfaction pooled hot and low in his belly.

"Which part?" Fuck every line they'd ever drawn in the sand.

"All of it." It wasn't just the scent. She could feel the sounds against her skin. Her eyes saw more, even in the low light. With her senses so heightened, she couldn't imagine what an actual physical touch would be like right now, let alone an openly sexual touch. She was already quivering in her skin.

"Good." He barely suppressed a shudder. That approval always got to him.

"I forget that it's like this for you all the time," she added softly into the charged silence.

"It ain't."

"I don't understand."

"Kid, you only gotta little taste of somethin' a hell of a lot bigger than five-Mississippi."

He could tell he'd shocked her again.

Good.

He smiled into the darkness in anticipation, tasting her excitement on the air and eager for what was coming.

* * *

Up next: **I Want It All**. Now that Marie's had a little taste, she wants more...


	25. I Want It All

It was much harder to focus now. Marie felt effervescent, like the bubbles in champagne. Wild and floaty. There was a darker thread too, pulling at her. Savage and hungry and impossible to ignore. It had settled low in her belly and made her want to press her legs together.

The woman on the platform moaned, tossing her head and straining against the intricate rope webbing. Her hair was like fire, lit from above. Every so often the man would stop and stroke it before returning to his work. Around and around. Through and over. Tighter and tighter.

Loops and twists formed easily under his fingers. The rope crawled across her skin. His movements had a beautiful rhythm, slow-slow-quick. Smooth and staccato together, a complex dance. He touched her between movements and between the ropes. Tender caresses, careful not to pinch her skin as he wove the ropes over and under and through, smiling when he flicked her with the tail end as it grew shorter and shorter.

On the stage, the man paused, looping the rope and pulling it taut before he bent in and sucked at the woman's nipple. His mouth let go with a soft pop and beside Logan, Marie shivered in the chair. The man returned to his work.

"What's he doing?" Marie asked, leaning in towards Logan, her voice a husky whisper purring against his eardrums. The ritual was too deliberate for it to not be something specific.

"Shibari."

"What's that?"

"S'Japanese word. It means 'to tie'."

Her mouth twitched. "Looks like there's a little more to it than that, sugar."

"There is. It's an art of erotic spirituality. Tyin' someone not just to keep 'em from movin', but to do so elegantly and beautifully. With purpose." He glanced over at her, wondering what she made of the show.

"It looks like bondage." He raised a brow at her. "Hey, I've seen pictures."

That drew a soft chuckle from him. "That's a part of it. Erotic bondage. The point isn't pain, or even pleasure. It's beauty."

"Beauty?"

"It's collaborative. Look at her. He's not doin' it against her will. She's offered herself. Her body is the canvas. He's the artist. The rope's his tool of choice and the designs he maps on her skin are his creation. The knots are carefully placed on her pressure points. He's makin' her skin sing." Beside him, Marie bit her full bottom lip. "If he knows what he's doin' — and knows his partner well — then the pressure will be damn good. Just where she needs it to make her fly. She wants him to take her someplace beautiful."

"Hmm…" That sounded good. Really, really good.

"Texture. Contrast. Trust. The rope against her skin. It'll leave marks they'll both enjoy after," he murmured quietly. Marie shivered again.

"Tell me more."

"There's more to it than that, more'n just physical. If he's really good at it, he can make it be euphoric for her. Like a runner's high, you know? Take her totally out of her head. For him it's the rush. Adrenaline and power."

"So it's the visual, coupled with the power exchange?" He could tell she didn't really understand.

"And the physical."

Logan studied her, curious about her reaction. Given their past conversations and the incident with Jubilee and Gambit, he thought she'd be more into the show unfolding before them. The rigger was surprisingly talented. The girl was half out of her head with pleasure and they were just getting started. Marie seemed only mildly interested, however. Her focus was on him and their quiet conversation rather than the couple on the platform. Interesting.

Logan tried to look at the performance objectively, seeing it as she might. With his senses, he found the lighting and the music mildly distracting, but the show itself was above average. The girl was tall and thin with long limbs like a doll; a crimson fall of hair against alabaster skin. Even the natural hemp looked a deep taupe against the expanse of creamy white. The contrast was beautiful. The man appeared to be in his late twenties. His hair was black and he had a few hours' worth of dark stubble shading his square jaw. His body was lean and strong and his hands moved confidently.

Logan's enhanced senses told him it was more than just an act. The two performers were deeply caught up in what was happening between them. They were both aroused, breathing erratically and sweating. Maybe Marie didn't find the man attractive? Or maybe it was the act itself? Still, though it might be unfamiliar to her, this was quite tame compared to some of the edgier erotic stories she'd written. He understood that not all fantasies were as good in reality as they were in theory, but he didn't think it was that, either.

"Don't like it?" he finally offered into the long silence. He honestly couldn't tell. Her scent and body language were giving him conflicting information.

"Uh…" She hesitated.

"Don't be shy. I wanna know," he said softly. He wanted this experience to be enjoyable for her. He was also interested in what it would reveal to him about her sexual likes and dislikes. That was virgin ground for them both.

"It's not that I don't think restraint is sexy. I do."

That was reassuring.

"But?"

"It's just the red hair really isn't doin' it for me. Sorry, sugar."

Well, fuck. That hadn't even crossed his mind. He didn't dwell on memories of Jean, but he could see why Marie might not be so into the idea of seeing a man with his general physical characteristics putting on an erotic show with a woman who could easily be Jean.

_Shit._ Now he felt like an ass.

"You don't gotta be sorry, darlin'." He wasn't playing now, or even teaching.

Marie caught the quick grimace ghost over his sharp features.

"There's no reason to feel bad. It's not your fault. I'm tryin'. It's just that she keeps taking me out of the moment."

"Nothin' wrong with that. You shouldn't hafta try, kid. It either comes or it don't." He refilled her glass. "You wanna take off? Find somethin' else to watch instead?"

"There's another show after this one, right?"

"Yeah. The mixed couple. This is just the openin' act." Typically that meant no penetrative sex, but this wasn't exactly the kind of place that had hard and fast rules.

She considered that a moment. "Then I want to stay here, sitting in the dark with you and listening to you tell me more about shibari." That was far more erotic to her than what was happening on the stage. Logan so rarely revealed any of his sexual self to her.

"You sure?" His voice got even softer. "He's not finished with her yet. He's still workin' up to it, but in a little while he's probably gonna make her come."

Jesus, that blush went all the way down.

Marie took a deep drink, but she met his eyes and nodded.

"Yeah. I think I mostly get it — in theory — but I'm not really sure I understand the 'why'."

Ah, Christ. He was going to ride that goddamn compelling innocence of hers to fucking perdition. He didn't even feel guilty about it. He was enjoying himself.

And so was she.

"You askin' for a lesson?"

The Rogue stared back at him. "You offerin'?"

He could feel the Wolverine rising in him, responding to the blatant challenge in her voice.

Logan reached forward and gently pulled the long, sheer scarf from her neck. It slid over her skin, an iridescent whisper, stirring her scent and imparting her warmth against his fingertips. "Give me your hand."

Her pulse throbbed, fast and unsteady under her skin as she wordlessly held out her left arm.

"Take your glove off." He was slowly twisting the scarf in his hand, creating a thin, dense green rope.

"Logan…"

"Off, darlin'," he repeated silkily. "It needsta be against your bare skin." She still hesitated. "I'll keep ya safe."

* * *

Up next: **Pour Some Sugar On Me**. Marie and Logan play an erotic game. Lines are crossed. The Wolverine reels.

* * *

Author's note: I realize this chapter is a bit shorter than my usual. Some will be short, some will be long, depending on how the natural breaks fall. Please do not discourage an author from posting by harping on the length of chapters. It is not helpful. They are what they are. My LoganMuse would also like to point out that it's bad for your Chi. Heh. Plus, there will be more in a day or two. Onward!


	26. Pour Some Sugar On Me

Marie's eyes fluttered closed but she slid the glove off, meeting Logan's gaze again as she folded it once and laid it carefully on the table between them like a flag of surrender. The delicate silver rings she wore gleamed in the low light. A tiny one on her pinky, hammered metal that caught the light. On her ring finger, an old family heirloom. Her great-grandmother's wedding ring, elegant and simple. A line of tiny diamonds across a plain band of white gold. She had a heavier silver wrap ring on her thumb, shining in the darkness.

That one was his favorite.

He knew from memory she had five on her other hand, three thin hammered bands on her middle finger and two on her pinky. A secret only the two of them knew about. He was the only one who saw her without her gloves these days. The rings also added a layer of detail to a fantasy he had all too frequently; her touch on him. Those small, capable hands on his skin. Rings shining and smooth against his flesh. Her hands in his hair... and on his body... and between his legs.

"Be careful."

Logan nodded once to acknowledge her soft warning, but to her surprise, he made no move to touch her naked arm.

Marie had told him she thought she understood the notion of erotic restraint — in theory. She just didn't understand the 'why'.

"The 'why's' easy, darlin'."

"Tell me."

"You ever wish you could be taken outta your head?"

"All the time," she confided breathlessly. She was never alone.

He knew that would be a compelling, salient selling point for her.

"If the rigger knows what he's doin', he can take you to that place if you let him. Rope drunk, they call it," his voice had dropped. It was huskier now. The conversation was affecting him, too. "Somewhere beyond thought where it's nothin' but euphoria and sensation."

That sounded too good to be true.

"Have you ever done that?"

Logan shook his head. "Never trusted anyone enough to be that helpless." The admission was quiet but carried a hard edge. "But done the riggin'? I lived in Japan a lotta years, kid."

Maybe that's what he did in the Nagasaki room upstairs? Her mind whirled with possibilities.

"So that's a 'yes'?"

He still didn't make a move toward her bare arm. It was making her a little crazy. What was he waiting for?

"It's more'n aesthetic. The pressure of the ropes and the placement of the knots is very specific," he offered instead. He took a slow sip of his drink and her breath caught in her throat as he set the glass down and deftly manipulated the end of her scarf into a simple slip knot. His eyes never left her face. That he had enough skill to do it so fluidly without looking spoke to the breadth of his experience.

He slowly, deliberately, dragged the loop over the skin on the inside of her wrist, an echo of how she'd touched him earlier. It was the same place she'd put her mouth on his wrist.

She sucked in a quick breath, a stifled sound of shocked pleasure.

"It's about sensuality." He slid it over her skin again, smiling as she shivered. She was very responsive. "N'vulnerability." This time he let it tickle up her forearm and back down. "Strength, too." With a practiced motion, he slid the simple noose up over her hand and tightened it in small increments. He adjusted the knot's angle on her wrist and then pulled. The pressure increased by slow degrees. First a little. And then a lot.

A touch that was not a touch.

Marie could feel her pulse pounding wildly under the simple loop. She never would have guessed he could make her gauzy sheer scarf feel like an iron shackle. Or that something so simple could be so wildly erotic.

His fingers moved. The following coil lay next to the first, snug and precise, increasing the pressure exponentially. She was very aware of the blood flow in her hand now. It was beginning to feel heavier. How long before it started to tingle? Or go numb? It was only a small leap to imagining what that delicious pressure might feel like all over.

"Trust," he continued, his words pitched low. "Power." The inflection was slow and hypnotic. Her fingers twitched. He smiled. Below the noose, her skin was beginning to grow deeper in color as the moments ticked by. "How aware are you of your hand now?"

It wasn't a question that required a response. He just wanted to make her think about it. And she was, if the look on her face was any indication.

The implication was clear and deliberate. He could make her aware of any portion of skin he wanted, simply by how he arranged the rope and applied pressure. Her breasts. Her thighs. What would a rope between her legs feel like? Or around her neck? The room swam a little. So much sensory input would make it impossible to focus on anything else. Freedom from the prison of her mind. It was almost enough to bring her to tears.

Holding Logan's eyes, Marie moved her wrist experimentally, pulling against the steady pressure, and felt the delicate bones of her wrist shift slightly.

"Careful, darlin'. This ain't the right rope to be playin' that sorta game." Too much give. Not enough structure.

"But if it was the right kind of rope?"

Jesus. She always had to push.

"Then sky's the limit. Bound. Suspended. Trussed. In a harness. Dangled like a puppet. Held up. Held open. Revealed for my pleasure. Or yours." He enjoyed her soft gasp. "Friction and rhythm and pressure and motion. S'all fair game."

With a playful light in his eye, he tickled the shivery bit of skin on the inside of her elbow with the softer, floaty end of the scarf that he hadn't yet twisted into a slender green cord.

"What happens now?" she asked, feeling the world begin to spin out of control.

"Now the lesson's over, darlin'." He let didn't let her go completely, but the pressure on her wrist eased a little. Her hand throbbed pleasantly.

"And if it wasn't a lesson?"

He searched her face and considered what he found there before carefully answering. "Then we woulda had a real deep conversation long before the rope ever touched you, baby."

"About?"

"About where you wanted me to take you."

God, she was melting. He knew it too, the bastard. Marie blushed to the roots of her hair, but the Rogue, the Rogue wasn't about to let him call all the shots.

"And what about you, sugar?" she purred. Christ, that sound went right between his thighs, as sure as any touch.

"What about me, kid?"

She drew her hand back sharply, forcing him to put pressure on the strip of green sliding through his long fingers until they reached equilibrium. The length of iridescent green cord quivered tautly between them.

"You feelin' the rush yet, cowboy? Adrenaline and power, was it?" Her eyes sparkled.

For a moment he wavered, but he thought better of answering her with the unvarnished truth at the last minute. He wasn't going to put any of his shit on her. They had time. If anything ever happened between them, it would be because she initiated it, not because he took it. Tonight was about her. He'd flirt, sure. Definitely more than he should, and probably _way_ more than was healthy for either of them…. but he wasn't going to push this somewhere that couldn't later be explained away as two tipsy friends having a wild night on the town. He kept his answer carefully ambivalent, as all his responses had been tonight.

"You've seemed to make it your life's mission to drive me demented, baby. You think this is the first time I've thought about tyin' your sassy ass up?" His tone implied his mental picture possibly also included a gag, a bridge, and a long fall into a cold body of water.

She punched his shoulder with her free hand and then winced as the noose pinched her wrist painfully with the unexpected shift in position. Logan let it go immediately.

"Shit."

He was not in the right headspace to play these sorts of games with her tonight.

"It's fine." She moved to massage away the ache but he pushed her hand away, carefully loosening the knot and unwrapping her wrist, as was his right. It was his rig, simple though it was.

"This is a part of it too," he murmured softly.

"The unwrapping?"

He nodded. "And what comes after." Those words didn't need to be expanded upon. There were two beautiful pink impressions in the creamy skin of her wrist. It took more of his monumental control than he cared to admit to keep his mouth off them. "Put your glove on." A mark like that, _his_ mark, was one temptation too many.

She did as he asked, smoothing the silky black fabric back up her arm.

"I get it now," she said quietly, taking a healthy sip of her drink.

"Good." They fell quiet.

It was Logan who finally broke the silence. "Do you still feel it?" Was her skin throbbing under that damned black glove?

Marie bobbed her head, not quite trusting her voice. The satin of her glove shifted against her oversensitized skin, making her very aware of that part of her body. It was a mark of his pleasure, not of protection like the teeth on the back of her neck.

"S'like a secret." Logan's thumb ghosted over her wrist, directly over the hidden mark.

"Nobody knows but me," she whispered.

"And me."

Marie shivered. "And you."

"Now imagine it was all over, not just under the glove? Or some place with more nerve endin's than a wrist? Or that I'd used a finer cord — silk maybe — and you were still wearin' it under your clothes..."

"God."

"Or maybe they're gone, but whatcha feel ain't just the lingerin' sensation of the ropes."

Her eyes were very wide. She made a soft sound, not even a word. A gasp. Her spicy scent suggested pleasure rather than surprise.

"Could be you feel what happened between the ropes."

"Between?"

"Teeth. Nails. Sucking bites. Bruising kisses." Jesus, he was getting hot. The sweat was gathering at the small of his back and between his legs. "Rough scrape of stubble. Brush of soft lips. Slap of a hand. Sting of ice." He wet his lip. "Tickle of a feather." His voice grew lower, huskier. "Trickle of come—"

"The whisper of claws, warm and smooth and sharp."

Logan jerked in the chair.

The Rogue smiled.

"Fuck."

Fuck indeed.

* * *

Up next: **Push It**. The Rogue has always been a little wildcat. She can't help pushing the Wolverine. You can't know how much room you have to play until you find out where the hard edges are...


	27. Push It

When the opening act was over, Logan was surprised to find that Marie had enjoyed watching the man on the platform untie his lover more than the show itself. It spoke to her deep desire for intimacy, rather than a shallow longing for the physical release of sex, and yet her comment about feeling his blades on her skin had shaken him.

That she could even imagine it at all told him there was a purely physical element somewhere in the mix. One he hadn't realized was quite so pronounced. It certainly spoke to a level of sexual sophistication that he hadn't expected from someone with such limited experience. It was a thrilling prospect and one that chipped away at his hard earned control.

Still, while it was clear she found the idea of erotic restraint compelling, she had seemed uncomfortable, rather than aroused, as the woman on the stage had come, twisting and writhing in the ropes. Feeling her discomfort made him uneasy too. It skated too close to the line of despoiling something pure and good. He had no problem sharing any number of sordid pastimes with her as long as she joined him on the other side of that dirty line of her own free will, but he didn't like the idea that he was responsible for putting her in a situation where she might feel pressured.

"You okay, darlin'?"

"Yes." Her eyes were bright and clear as he refilled her glass.

He gestured to the stage. "Too much?"

"No. Not really. Just different than I imagined."

"Different how?"

"Just different than it felt when I saw Jubes and Gambit that time. I liked it, but that was strange enough when it was just me watching."

He understood what she wasn't saying. She found the crowd inhibiting. This time she'd been more aroused by their conversation than by the action on the stage.

"You wanna go? S'okay if you do."

"No." She blushed at how quickly that had come out and ducked her head as Logan chuckled softly. "I like being here with you."

That was a whole different animal than _I like what we're watching_. It wasn't quite laying all her cards on the table, but it was enough of an admission that it had the Wolverine rattling the bars.

"Me, too." Too fucking much.

Before he could elaborate, a woman approached their table, her eyes on Marie.

Logan grimaced. _Christ. Another one? _ This was getting ridiculous.

Marie was clearly taken by the grandeur of the woman as she stopped in front of them. She had a sleek cap of mottled feathers instead of hair and powerful wings that fluttered silently, like an owl. As long as he'd known her, Marie'd had a compulsion to pick up and stroke any feathers she found and he could tell she was a little awestruck by the woman. She was less an archangel and more a valkyrie. Her eyes were large and golden and while she wasn't classically beautiful, she was striking.

The bird-woman noticed Marie's attention and smiled at her with expectation. "May I touch?"

"No." Marie's voice was firm and final. It surprised him. She wasn't hiding behind him this time.

"Not _you_." The stranger turned her strange, unblinking gaze on Logan and plucked a downy plume from the underside of one of her massive wings. "_Him_." She held out the feather invitingly.

Well, shit. He'd definitely read that situation wrong. She hadn't been eyeing up Marie as a potential partner, but as a rival for his attention.

"In that case, HELL no." Marie took the feather from the woman's outstretched fingers before Logan could even reject the token. "He's _mine_."

_Whoa. _ Logan's eyes flicked to Marie's face. The husky growl slipped out before he could stop it. It wasn't shock. It was pride. Possessiveness spiked with a healthy dose of pleasure. This was what he'd expected earlier. A lioness. The Rogue in all her glory. She owned every bit of it now — not the little glimpses he'd gotten before, but the full measure. Strong and wild and as fierce as he'd ever seen her.

"Is that true?" The woman's condescending expression seemed to imply she couldn't believe a child like _her _owned a man like _that_.

Logan just sat back smugly, saying nothing.

The Rogue was not silent. "Every last bit of him, sugar."

The woman's scathing glance switched back to Logan. "Your loss." She flounced away with a shake of her head; a flutter of wings and feathers ruffled the wrong way.

"Damn," he breathed into the awkward silence.

"Sorry." This time it was a glimmer of Marie in a sea of The Rogue. "I didn't think." It had just come tumbling out. It felt too right to even be embarrassed about it right now. She probably would be later when the adrenaline faded, but right now, she was feeling good and more than a little wild.

"S'fine."

"I don't know…" she shrugged. "Nobody owns the Wolverine."

"Somebody does tonight."

God, she hadn't even thought of that. No doubt the word that the Wolverine had allowed himself to be publicly claimed would spread like wildfire through this place.

"Just tonight?" she managed, saluting him with the glass and a cheeky wink.

Jesus, he loved The Rogue.

"Nobody owns The Rogue, either, darlin'," he shot back. He didn't care what the rest of the people here thought about him. The only person whose opinion mattered to him was hers, and she seemed frighteningly fine with it.

She touched the bite on her neck with one gloved finger. "Somebody does tonight..."

Another growl rumbled out before he could get a lid on it, and for a moment, his eyes gleamed golden at her across the table.

She might not know exactly what she was doing to him, but the look on her face said she had a damn good idea, and that she was loving every moment of it. It didn't surprise him. Tonight was about testing her wings and clearly she was enjoying her newfound power. He enjoyed it, too. There had always been a spark. Tonight they were playing with fire. And it was damn good.

He caught her eye. For a moment, everything faded into the background and it was just the two of them, acknowledging the silent shift between them.

The lights dimmed again and he heard Marie huff quietly.

"What?"

"I can't see."

"Five Mississippi wore off already?"

"Most of it, yeah. I still have a little of you in me." God, those words. She had to have chosen them deliberately. "I still feel a little wild, but the extra senses are gone."

He frowned at that, wondering if she'd only been as assertive as she'd been because of the lingering trace of him inside her. "Mmph."

"It's not that."

Sometimes it annoyed him that she could read him so well. "Hey, if-"

"Hush up, sugar. It's all me. Whatever I got from you, it's not what's coming out tonight." His expression was wary, with more than a touch of disbelief. "This has been building a long time. What I took… that just makes me feel more safe to be the me I've been keeping inside for too long. It's time."

He nodded. This wasn't about_ them_, it was about _her_. It was time for her to begin stepping out of the boundaries that had held her back for too long.

His body stiffened in the chair when he felt the feather tickle up and down his forearm, following the path her lips had taken earlier.

"Kid?"

She swirled it over his pulse point, making his sensitive skin crawl. "Mmm…"

"You want more?" It was a question, not an offer. This time she'd have to ask. He couldn't in good conscience lead her further. It had to be all on her this time.

"Yes." God, she was killing him with that damned feather. She'd moved on from his wrist to his knuckles. He could feel the blades pricking at the back of his hand. Her owning the tool of another woman's attempt at seduction was getting to him too. There was a sophistication there he hadn't expected.

"Then ask me."

Her breath caught but she met his eyes. Her gaze was wild but steady. "Logan, sugar? Can I please have more?"

Christ, that did it for him. He liked it when she said 'yes' and 'please' and he _really_ liked it when she said his name like _that_, all whispery and breathy as hell.

He might have made her ask, but he wasn't above pushing a little now that she'd joined him on the other side of the line. Instead of offering her his arm again, he opened another button at his throat and canted his neck in challenge, chuckling as her eyes widened.

_He couldn't possibly… _

Her eyes narrowed. It wasn't smart to dare the Rogue.

She moved closer with the feather and he growled under his breath at her. A playful warning. He could tell from the sparkle in her eye she was thinking about earlier tonight; his admission that his neck was ticklish.

She'd run her fingertips over him then and he expected her to do the same thing again now. His body was already beginning to coil in anticipation of her removing that glove and touching his throat like she'd done earlier. Hell, her wrist would probably still be carrying his mark. It took considerable effort to remain still in the chair with that gauntlet thrown down in between them.

His breath rushed out of his lungs in surprise as instead of pulling off her glove, she leaned in closer, dragging the flat of her impertinent little tongue up his neck. It was an impossibly slow tease, a wet glide from his collarbone to that shivery spot just under his ear. Breathing him in. Tasting him. Testing the rough drag of his stubble under her tongue.

_Eight. Nine. Ten._

Christ, those lips. Big and soft, so close and warm… The arm he had around her slid up to cup the back of her head, holding her to him.

_Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. _

Her eyes were closed in pleasure but he could see her brows furrow as she concentrated, trying to make it last as long as she could, to hold back the overwhelming tide from rushing into her too soon.

_Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. _

The buzz electrified his blood.

_Seventeen. _

Fuck. Too soon. Too soon. She nipped him with her teeth and the pull began as she laved away the sting with her clever tongue.

This time, she didn't pull away.

This time, she knew what was coming and she wanted it. Wanted to feel him inside her, filling her up. That delicious pressure pulsing and throbbing under her skin.

Four Mississippi…. Five Mississippi… Six…

By eight, the world was beginning to go hazy around the edges.

Nine…

He swayed in the chair. "Marie," he warned.

Ten.

"Enough," he growled, pulling her mouth from his skin, but still keeping her close; shaking off the gray as the world threatened to go dark. Christ, she was so powerful. She shouldn't be, a little bitty thing like her. But she'd damn near put him on the ground just now. It made him feel better, not worse. Despite her youth, she was his physical equal in every way.

Her eyes were wild. She was panting hard, lit up from the inside. Full of him. Full of power. Full of hunger for things she'd never tasted, except for the stain bleeding from the memories in her head. "Sorry," she breathed, still trying to separate herself from the heady rush of him coursing through her.

She could feel him so strong in her mind. An echo of his thoughts and feelings; a tangle of pride, desire, lust, tenderness and overriding it all, apprehension. A clear feeling that this was too much too soon.

She agreed.

"Sorry," she said again, softer this time. "I'm so sorry. I couldn't…" it had been too good to stop. She'd always been afraid of that. It wasn't that she was afraid of touch. She was afraid that once she opened herself to it, as starved for it as she was, she wouldn't be able to stop. It had happened once with Bobby, too.

Once that tiger was out of the cage…

It was a thousand times more intense with Logan. Not just because of who he was and how she felt about him, but because what he filled her with was every bit as volatile as that tiger. And just as wild for escape.

She flushed.

"S'alright. M'fine." His head was spinning, but he could feel his mutation compensating, the heat and the full flush of power rising under his skin as his body began replenishing what she'd taken. It was slower than usual and left him feeling good, relaxed and more than a little drunk now that there was less healing to compensate for the large amount of alcohol he'd consumed. He wasn't used to pacing himself.

"I'm sorry." She was having a hard time focusing. All around her the scents and sounds from the other patrons were grating on her senses. She didn't have his decades of experience blocking them out. "I didn't mean to…"

"Yes, you did." He didn't mind. In fact, he loved that she wanted him like that. That it was so big and good and so much that she couldn't control it. He wasn't very good at keeping his need inside the box either. He was sitting with her at a sex club, for Christ's sake. They were both skating a fine line tonight. "You did and I liked it." Fuck the line. He wasn't about to let her feel bad for something they'd both enjoyed.

Her eyes met his, serious now. "I never wanted to hurt you."

"I know." He touched the stripe in her ponytail. "But ya liked it and you wanted more. Nothin' wrong with that."

"Except I could have killed you."

"Nah. It'd take more'n that. I'm good. Real good as a matter of fact." His lopsided grin became something else. Something more serious. "It's just 'cause it's new. Your first time takin' it into you that way when you're in charge. You can't expect to control something so—"

"Scary."

"Powerful," he corrected. "When it's still so new. Give it time." He was more than willing to help her there, but now was not the time for that conversation. He caught her hand with his. "You think I didn't have a learnin' curve with these?" He raised a fist casually.

"Mmphf." Hearing his grunt of derision coming from her made him smile.

And then he frowned as she winced when the woman to their left laughed excitedly and clapped her hands as the lights flicked out in advance of the main show starting. Marie had taken even more of him this time, the overstimulation would be even more intense.

"C'mon."

Logan picked up the bottle and rose.

"I don't want to go," she whispered, catching his hand. She wanted this, with him. Now. Here. Tonight. To watch something sexy with him at her side and that delicious wildness pounding in her blood. Her touch and scent telegraphed that to him clearer than any words.

"We ain't leavin'. Just relocatin'."

He put her in one of the leather booths at the back of the room that was recessed into the wall and half shrouded by heavy velvet curtains. That pseudo-privacy would test his frayed control even further, but it would help block out the rest of the distractions while still allowing her to enjoy the show with the gifts she'd taken from him.

To be honest, he preferred it to the table as well. Crowds were always an assault on his senses.

He knew she'd like this better, too. It wasn't quite the same thing as watching a private show, but it was damn close. They couldn't see any of the other patrons now, just a clear line of sight to the stage as the room plunged into total darkness. The energy between them was different this time. Less tentative. More electric.

The small enclosed space was better in some ways but more difficult in others. The air was still and quickly filled with the scent of her; desire and relief and pleasure over the leather of the booth and the bourbon on the table between them. She wouldn't miss the desire spicing his scent either. Not now.

"Thanks, sugar."

"You bet."

She snuggled up next to his side, breathing deeply, still obviously trying to work out the boundary between him and her. He understood how it might be difficult to define where she stopped and he began with so much of him inside her. He had to be strong in her mind.

"You okay up there?"

She nodded. It was good but confusing. There was so much. A riot of conflicting emotion underscored by an almost primal need, not to own her but to protect her — from what, she wasn't exactly sure. She couldn't even begin to name the raw feelings swirling in him. It was a savage tumult. A part of her was glad. She wasn't ready for the enormity of what was waiting for her. Not yet.

Tonight was just about testing the waters.

Together.

He turned and blinked at her slowly, feeling his mouth twitch. "You licked me."

He thought she'd blush. She didn't. She grinned at him instead. "You needed lickin', sugar, and you know better than to dare me like that."

His chuckle was low and dirty.

Of course he knew that.

That's why he'd done it.

But for now, he let it be.

They both needed to pretend a little longer.

* * *

Up next: **Hysteria**. The real show begins. Marie and Logan are unprepared for the fallout from what they see…

_Need I say we're heading into very adult territory here? (Though frankly, if you're not into that, I can't see how you'd still be with me after 27 chapters of it.) Heh. You have been warned! _


	28. Hysteria

A single light shone down, illuminating a still figure in the darkness for a brief moment. A woman stood at the corner of the platform, head bowed; a spill of long inky hair hiding her face. Her skin, like milk. Luminous in the darkness. It was a stark contrast to her hair and satiny black lingerie; bustier, panties, thigh high stockings and fierce black pumps.

The light winked out, plunging the room back into darkness.

A flutter went through the crowd. There was no music. No sound, save for the girl's slow, even breathing.

The light came again, this time illuminating the far side of the platform. A man sat in a sturdy leather armchair, leaning back with his legs spread slightly in casual repose. Boots. Jeans. Belt with a plain silver buckle. A crisp white button down shirt under a worn leather vest, sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular forearms with a sprinkling of golden hair. His face was shadowed by his hat, revealing only a square bearded jaw. It wasn't a cowboy hat. It was the kind gunslingers wore. All that was missing was the piece strapped to his strong thigh. The man radiated power and danger, even without the allusion to men who lived and died by the gun. He had an aura of primal energy that made the space feel very small.

The light snuffed out, once again swallowing the room in shadow.

When the light came again, it lit a pair of empty, gleaming heels where the woman had been standing moments before. One lay tipped on its side, as if she hadn't been able to crawl out of them fast enough.

The light went out.

It came again from above, golden and warm. Brighter this time, but still only lighting the small sliver of space around the man in the chair. He'd moved. His wiry bulk had shifted forward slightly, his forearm on his strong thigh now as he leaned in. He was smiling into the darkness, his sharp focus on something just outside the circle of light.

Again the room was plunged into darkness.

It took a few moments for their eyes to adjust, but both Marie and Logan could see her, charcoal against shadow. Moving toward him. Slowly. Seductively.

This time when it light came, the man's hat was gone.

Logan felt Marie startle against him.

It was the leonine man from the bar, hair down around his face now, brushing his shoulders. A little wild, like a mane. His full, trimmed beard only added to the effect. His face was a study in predatory focus. Those strange pupils of his were open wide, looking past the pool of light to watch his prey in the gloom.

The room went dark again.

When the light returned, the woman was kneeling between the man's spread knees, swaying lightly. Not touching him, but waiting for direction from the feral, dominant force sprawled lazily in the chair. His feet were bare this time.

Marie sucked in a deep, shuddering breath. There was something about that image that sent her blood skittering under her skin, hot and wild.

The fact that she had a connection to the man on the stage, however tenuous, made it all the more exciting. The good Southern girl in her was a little shocked — he'd seemed so nice. The Rogue was intrigued and aroused, as if she were getting a glimpse of what it would have been like if she'd responded to his unspoken invitation at the bar. It was as if he'd invited her into his bedroom to see just what she was missing.

Her hand stuttered on the tabletop and Logan didn't miss the way her thighs pressed together at the man's casual display of power. There went her pupils, blown wide as her scent became a thousand times more alluring. She was engaged this time in a way she hadn't been before. And so was he. This is what he'd hoped for her tonight. That she'd open herself to it — and to him. That she'd embrace something inside of herself that she'd been hiding from for too long.

A possessive growl rumbled low in Logan's throat as he pulled her against his side more firmly and shifted his body, moving just slightly in front of her. Marie was enthralled by the performance and didn't realize what he was doing. She simply took pleasure in the fact he wanted her close while they watched this intimate act unfold.

The man on the stage kept up the appearance of being solely focused on the woman in front of him, but nodded almost imperceptibly in Logan's direction. Acknowledgement from one predator of the claim made by another.

The man in the chair had noted the Mississippi girl's empty table and his sharp eyes had found her ensconced in the alcove easily enough. He rarely acknowledged the audience at all, but tonight he felt the added thrill of the Mississippi girl's eyes on him. She was ripe with innocence ready to be claimed. It excited him in a way overt sexuality could not. She was not his, but perhaps tonight he would give the girl her first true taste of adult pleasure. And later, when she went home and took off those intriguing gloves, maybe what she saw tonight would be playing behind her eyes when she put her slim, white hand between her legs. Between his thighs, he felt the first stirring of his own pleasure.

The darkness came again.

Beside him, Marie shuddered in anticipation. Logan pressed his nose against Marie's hair and inhaled, feeling his own blood rise.

The light returned. The man's hands were on the woman now. Her smoky eyes were downcast, nude full lips curling into a slow smile. That first touch. His fingers at her throat; a thumb on her pulse. Gentle, but knowing. A wild tattoo beat under his fingertip.

Work-roughened fingers skated down, feeling her swallow and tracing the delicate sweep of her collarbone before stopping on the wide expanse of naked skin on her back above the corset. His eyes gleamed as he used just the lightest pressure to guide her over his knee.

There was a beat of time where the earth stood still. His hand skimmed down, past the ties at her narrow waist that hung so deliciously over the smooth curve of her bottom.

Marie was riveted, waiting with tremulous expectation. The position suggested a spanking, but even she, as innocent as she was, thought that would be too soon. Too easy.

As if he'd heard her thoughts, the man's touch gentled. Instead of the swat the position implied, his caress slid over the swell of the woman's smooth backside, exposed below the silky thong. His short nails glided over her creamy skin. Not hard. But enough to make her shiver and leave pink trails and gooseflesh in their wake. His other hand rested on her neck, stroking lightly.

Logan put his mouth to Marie's ear. "How do you think that hand on her throat makes her feel?" For as much as he wanted this night to be for her, it was about him, too. There were things he wanted to learn.

"I don't know…" _Safe?_ Testing the word in her mind didn't make it any less frightening to speak aloud. She imagined Logan's hand on her neck. "Safe?"

Logan pulled her closer, surprised and pleased by her response.

The man on the stage closed his pale eyes briefly, jaw clenched. _Perfection._

The Rogue just smiled.

* * *

Up next: **Animal**. A slow, erotic descent into pleasure and a visceral reaction too strong to deny…

_(A short one, I know… but the next one is twice as long, and trust me, you'd rather have it this way than have me break the next part somewhere in the middle…) Heh. My LoganMuse was definitely NOT on board with that plan!_


	29. Animal

Logan and Marie watched as the man on the stage slowly, leisurely, slid his hand up the woman's throat and into her long, shiny hair. He made a strong fist and pulled her up. Not hard or rough, but with passion as he brought her face to his. They shared a wet kiss before he guided her back over his knee and stroked her nape.

Marie didn't realize her fingers had stroked her own neck, brushing over Logan's bite. Logan saw the small gesture and wet his lips, unconsciously searching for any lingering taste of her left on his mouth.

The next touch was rougher; a sharp, staccato smack. Marie jerked in her seat. The woman hummed with pleasure. His hand fell again. And again. It was definitely more than playful. Intense without inflicting real pain. Rough but not violent.

Marie could hear their breathing change, their heartbeats begin to speed in unison. The swats echoed off the harsh surfaces instead of being absorbed. She could smell the leather of the chair and the spice in the man's scent as his body heated with exertion. The leather creaked pleasantly in counterpoint to the sharp sound of his palm striking her flawless skin. It left large, beautiful fiery-red handprints.

When the woman began tensing, anticipating the next swat, the man changed tactics, deftly slipping his fingers under the silky fabric between her legs to touch the slick moisture gathering there. He used his thumb for that, too, before slowly licking away the glossy sheen with a lusty smirk. A smack. A caress. A dirty push of his fingers, first two - then three. Another smack. The drag of his nails. A bite. Always changing it up. He chuckled aloud when he playfully pinched her ass and she squealed in surprise, throwing him a flirtatiously dirty look over her shoulder.

Marie enjoyed their lively sense of fun. The woman was spirited and the man was surprisingly playful in the most engaging of ways.

Their energy was different than the previous couple. Less underlying tension. There was affection but not love, and a sultry mischievousness that was heavily centered in the physical. They were playmates, not soulmates. That sense of lightness made the seductive descent into watching the carnal act easier for an innocent like Marie, who despite her adventurous nature, still had some firm lines in the sand.

Darkness descended.

An exquisite cry broke the silence. Marie's mind whirled. God! What had he done to her? The rapid shifts from light to dark were purposeful. It took even those with enhanced senses a moment or two to adjust, allowing the couple on the platform brief slivers of time when the two on stage were perfectly hidden.

This time, the light brought a rush of heat and a blush to Marie's face. The man's wide thumb brushed the woman's full, wet lips and then he pushed it inside for her to suck. Was his thumb salty? Sweet? He'd been drinking Southern Comfort at the bar. Was her tongue swirling around it, inviting him deeper? Marie squirmed against Logan.

_Fuck. _There was a flash of teeth in the darkness that was not quite a smile, but a sign of pleasure nonetheless. Marie's growing restlessness was slowly pushing Logan closer and closer to the edge.

The man pulled his thumb from the woman's mouth and slid it down her neck and chest, leaving a wet trail. He scratched his way back up before slipping his fingers inside the cup of her bustier, pinching her nipple hard enough to wring a delicious sound from her.

Logan clenched his teeth as he watched Marie's hand cup her own breast lightly before it slipped down to press against her middle, as if it could hold the riot of wild feelings at bay. He could tell she _hungered_. Strongly. Deeply. Aching for touch. To feel what the woman on the stage was feeling.

Logan had wanted that for Marie— and for himself, too. Tonight was just as much about watching each other as it was about watching an erotic show. This one couldn't have been more suited to them. Little visual cues that made it more intense for them both. The corset. The buckle. A slim brunette kneeling before a feral man. It was all too easy for Logan to imagine himself in the man's place with a different brunette on her knees, inflaming all his senses. In truth, his mind had been there many times before.

Marie's pink cheeks and sultry scent told him she was thinking about it too, casting herself as the woman on the stage. Her face was so open and expressive. There was no mistaking which man she was picturing in her head. Not with her fierce, exultant claim still ringing in his ears. It excited him and made him a little apprehensive, too. She was deeply invested and he hoped what played out on the stage and in her head wouldn't ultimately be too salty for her or push her too far down an unfamiliar path.

A look passed between the couple on the platform and the bearded man nodded slowly, once, and stood. He planted his feet wide as the woman purred against his groin, rubbing her cheek against him silkily before pulling back to watch his eyes as her hand crept up the inside of his thigh and reached for his belt.

This time when the lights went out, Marie whimpered softly.

Logan did not miss the flutter of Marie's fingers or her quick glance at his buckle. Fixing the details in her head to make her fantasy better, he hoped, aware Marie had likely imagined the darkness would conceal her furtive glance.

When the spotlight returned, Marie flushed to the roots of her hair. Her skin felt hot, fluttery and twitchy. The angle was perfect for her to see everything. It was as if the feral man was putting the show on just for her. Perhaps he was.

The man was not at all shy. Even half hard, he was magnificent and there was something wonderfully dirty about a barefoot, aroused man exposed in a pair of unzipped jeans. Marie found herself smiling as the woman hefted the heavy column of flesh in her palm and stroked him from base to tip, imagining a similar touch on a different man. The image easily sprang to mind with such an explicit visual firing her fantasy. She enjoyed the little shiver of pleasure the man couldn't quite contain, too. He was powerful but not immune to the woman's intimate touch, or to his body's instinctive response to such openly erotic stimulation.

Could she make Logan's body do that? Draw such a visceral reaction from so stoic a man? Their eyes met and he seemed to be able to read her mind. The Wolverine missed nothing. Marie's eyes darted back to the man on the stage. He was the safer place to look by far.

He was beautiful, thick and natural, rising proudly now from a nest of golden brown hair that was dense and a little wild. When the woman pushed up his shirt a little, Marie could see the trail extended up his abdomen. It made her want to follow it with her tongue. It also made her wonder what else was hidden under his clothes. She was starting to resent not being able to look her fill, unfettered. She felt hungry and restless. Logan's solid, strong presence at her side only amplified the feeling. In her mind's eye, every touch and gasp took on a different meaning, painted in her head in shades of them. Logan's touch. Her gasp. It was difficult to concentrate between her awareness of him and the earthy scent of his arousal filling her head.

The man's face was hard, unreadable. His hand was fisted in the woman's hair. Marie's eyes were drawn back irresistibly to his thick erection, her eyes wide and her breathing deep.

She wet her lips.

Logan brushed his mouth against her ear. "That the first time you've seen one?"

Her low, throaty laugh surprised him.

"No. I could touch Bobby in his ice form."

Logan shook his head, eyes sparkling. "Sounds… chilly."

"I can say with certainty that's not the kind of goosebumps I was hoping for." That drew a quiet rumble of amusement from both men. "I definitely prefer the flesh and blood version."

Logan grunted. On the stage, the man's dimples were hidden in his beard.

Darkness fell. Into it came a rough masculine purr. The sound of a man in his pleasure. Marie hummed too, caught up in the story playing out before them. She flushed, catching her lip in her bottom teeth, a little embarrassed by her visceral reaction, but too aroused to stop. All of them could feel it. There was a sense they were gaining momentum, rushing toward a deliciously inevitable conclusion.

The light returned, falling on the man's upturned face. One hand remained tangled in the woman's dark hair. The other stroked her face, brushing her full lips stretched wide around his girth and caressing her throat as she swallowed greedily around him. Dominance without possession.

The man was beginning to make low chuffs deep in his chest. Not a human sound at all. It was savage and compelling, pounding in Marie's ears and vibrating against her sensitive skin like a touch. The sound drew an instant reaction from her, a new slick rush of desire and a full body shudder she felt down to her toes. "Oh….." It was less a word and more a sound; that first sharp intake and then the expectant feel as she automatically held her breath, waiting for what came next.

Fuck. That sound. Innocence twined with fierce hunger. Longing that demanded attention. The man on stage couldn't help but look, an answering groan on his own lips. Nature commanded it. He was unable to resist the compulsion. He held one woman's eyes while the other pleasured him. He never did that. Never. That eyeful of young sweetness was smashing his rules to hell. He could feel the sweat trickling down his belly and when the girl wet her lips with the unconscious desire to taste him, his eyes slid shut and his head fell back as he let himself imagine that Mississippi sugar swallowing him down.

His touch became less gentle, communicating his need to his playmate. A wave of feral lust rose and his hips began to thrust. The mouth between his legs grew rougher, wetter and more pliant. Lips and tongue and… _teeth_. He grunted hard, dragged too close to the edge by a slip of little girl and an instinctive desire to answer her primal call.

"So rough!" Marie exclaimed softly. She turned her head toward Logan, meeting his eyes. They were hooded, black with desire and more than a little wild. He wasn't watching the show. He was watching her. Her scent was driving him insane. His body was telling him to cover her, to rut and thrust and bite. "That— that's okay?"

"Fuck yeah." He nodded curtly. "Hurts good." A feral smirk appeared on his mouth, showing her a flash of his canines. "I liketa bite, too. Sometimes sweet and slow ain't enough to burn away the fire."

The darkness came again. Logan felt Marie shift against him. He heard the rasp of satin and felt the warmth of naked hesitant fingers hovering just over his lips.

"Can I?"

_Hasta be her choice. All on her._

He opened his mouth in answer, letting her feel for herself. His canines weren't really longer than average, but they were much sharper. She touched his lips and then his teeth, her fingertips pressing the points experimentally. His tongue encouraged her finger deeper, and he sucked softly, rhythmically, almost without thought. Salt and sweat and want bloomed on his tongue. The buzz followed, warning him of the impending pull and he released her. Grudgingly.

She ducked her head, flushing more when her eyes fell on his lap. He widened his legs a little and let her take a good long look. His blood pounded, a fierce throbbing just there under his buckle. A wet spot would probably be visible soon. He was intensely aroused, weeping need in a steady trickle now. In a way it was more explicit than what was happening on the stage. Certainly more intimate. When she licked the finger he'd just sucked, it took all he had to remain seated, his hands clenched at his sides.

_Jesus, fuck._

Marie's mind was in turmoil. What would he do if she touched him? She wanted to. Her fingers twitched with it, but something held her back at the last minute. Logan swallowed a fiery mouthful of bourbon. "Put your glove back on," he growled. His eyes flashed gold when he said it and even The Rogue knew better than to push him when he was like that.

The light began to flicker like a strobe, revealingly only little flashes of the couple on the stage.

Her fingers on the buttons of his vest.

His teeth on her neck.

Her nails digging into him.

The flickers grew faster — the glimpses they revealed more intimate. There was a feeling of acceleration. Adrenaline and lust and sex and skin.

His mouth on her breast.

Her nipple pulled sharply in his teeth.

His fingers buried deep.

When the light returned, warm and steady, the woman was in the chair and the man was standing, naked and wild before her. His body was tawny, muscular and fit. A powerful chest and shoulders and a light furring of caramel hair on his forearms and legs. A darker tangle at his groin. He had several scars. A warrior's body. Marie could see the tattoo on his arm fully now. An unexpected spray of orchids in sepia and white. Some woman, somewhere, had touched him deeply. A second, smaller, tattoo sat over his heart, a black desert frog and trident. A SEAL, then.

Marie imagined him in bed. She wondered if Logan was imagining facing him in the cage. Either way, a violent catharsis of emotion and a physical resolution to the tension winding them all too tight.

The bearded man could feel the weight of the Mississippi girl's stare. Her hunger beat at him. He preened for her a little, savoring her eyes on him and flexing lightly, making his muscles jump and ripple under his golden skin. He palmed his cock, stroking the thick length slowly just to hear her soft intake of breath. It would be warm and sweet against his skin.

He pounced on the woman, a purr rumbling in his chest as he lifted her up and sat her on the back of the chair with a devilishly dirty grin. He was enjoying himself. He licked her neck and they kissed, his hair a rough tangle from her fingers as they parted. He looked like a wild thing as he got between her spread legs, pulled down her bustier and licked and nipped at her. It was dirtier, more erotic than if he'd pulled it off of her entirely, patience and propriety long gone.

"Mmm…"

Logan's hum of approval earned him a wry smile from the Rogue.

"You like that, sugar?"

"Fuck yeah." It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her she'd like it too. Instead, he bit down, tasting copper and shuddered at the sparkle in Marie's eyes. For all her innocence, she seemed very aware of what he was truly thinking. Perhaps it was because she had so much of him inside her now, or perhaps they were simply, finally, in tune.

On the stage, the man showed the woman off a little, holding her leg up and scraping his teeth down the length of it before pulling off her stockings with his teeth and biting into her instep with a playful growl. Palming her small breasts in his large hands, he smiled as he bent to her. It was good... but there was a more alluring scent below. He followed his nose, nipping the inside of each knee as he opened her legs and pulled aside the scrap of lace to lick and suck. Marie bit her lip. The woman moaned, making little sexy noises in her throat as she squirmed.

The man had stopped playing. He grabbed her hips hard, holding them where he wanted while he worked her, purring against her as she wailed.

Logan's expression said he liked_ that_, too. Marie's mouth went dry.

The lights went out.

Marie shivered against Logan, leaning forward in anticipation. Her lips were parted and she was breathing through her mouth now. Last time she had been passive. This time she couldn't wait to see what would happen next. Everything about her telegraphed her readiness; her scent, her posture, her breathing and heartbeat. Slick and ready and open.

_Christ._

Logan put his claws out on the hand opposite her, using the pain to ground himself.

Marie moaned softly with the reemergence of the light. Logan jerked in his seat as the sound crawled over his skin.

The couple had moved. The man had tipped the woman over the back of the chair, his rugged features twisted into a snarl of unfettered lust as he kicked the woman's legs apart, ripped her panties to the side and shoved in hard.

"Unnh!" The low needy sound broke from Marie as she grabbed Logan's hand tightly. It was too much. It wasn't an erotic touch, it was a lifeline. He had always been protection and safety to her and she turned to him now with big wet eyes, tremulous and shaking.

It was too much here, like this. Too open. Too revealing. Too close to what had happened between them in the alcove. She'd never imagined feeling like this just from sitting with him and watching…

Her eyes were drawn back to the couple on the stage. The woman's back arched in welcome, her hair spilling wildly as she tipped forward with the force of his initial entry. Her feet were leaving the ground with each powerful thrust of his hips. Sweat shone in the small of her back. The man pulled out and stroked the thick, glistening length of his erection before crudely licking his palm and wiping his wet fingers over his nose and mouth.

Marie's eyes were wide with a question she was too embarrassed to voice.

"Hasta taste them together," Logan whispered into her hair. Her whole body shook against his.

The rhythm of the thrusts was getting to them both. Hard, deep powerful movements that forced guttural feminine grunts from the woman every time he bottomed out. Then a pause. A look exchanged. A smirk. Another savage thrust. A pause. The thrusts grew quicker and harder until the woman's individual grunts became one long, loud, sustained cry.

The man shoved in deep and stilled his sweaty body.

"Why'd he stop?" Marie asked, breathlessly. They were clearly not finished. She was still feeling acutely shy, but her curiosity got the better of her, despite the feelings overwhelming her.

Logan's ears were still ringing from the woman's throaty cry. He chuckled darkly. "To give her a breather, darlin'. She don't have his stamina."

That lay there between them, a gauntlet unwittingly thrown down. She wondered if Logan would have to stop for her? The Rogue said no. Shouted it inside her head until it was all she could hear.

"God."

"Feels good, too, when ya get goin' again after. Little break like that makes everythin' more sensitive."

The man was moving again. Sharp, hard thrusts with random intervals between, longer at first and then slowly getting shorter as he gained momentum. The rhythm was different now as they hurtled toward something none of them could stop. The woman keened, an earthy obscene sound forced from her by her lover's unapologetic physical mastery of her body.

"Hurts good," Marie whispered, understanding now.

Logan only nodded, unable to speak. He was too close to the edge.

The feral man pawed at the woman now, moving roughly, without his earlier playful edge, lost to instinct and his need to make the woman come.

Everything seemed to crash in on Marie at once; the explicit eroticism of the act, the scent of Logan's arousal and the answering musk of her own, the wild thoughts in her head and the visual behind her eyes of a different couple making love with absolute abandon, all control gone, all walls torn down. Everything exposed.

Logan felt Marie squeeze his hand and he drew her into the protective shelter of his body. She was trembling, wide-eyed and breathing erratically. Someday, the Rogue would not have limits. Today, she did, and he was aware she'd reached them. He hushed her, a wordless croon, soft and low.

The feelings swirling in her were too big, too wild and they frightened her. Caught in the eddies, she'd been pulled into the rapids. The water was deep and the current too strong to fight. Marie wanted, desperately, and yet, she was afraid. She watched from the safety of Logan's arms, her head under his chin and his iron strength bracketing her, supporting her through the final moments.

The man had a handful of flesh at the woman's hip, kneading roughly as they mated fiercely. His other hand grabbed her throat and he licked her neck, a sensuous path that made Marie shiver. She gasped at the hard bite that followed, her own neck still tender where Logan had put his mouth on her earlier.

The woman's hands scratched at the leather as her voice broke on a rising scream. The man inhaled sharply, pulling in the scent of the woman underneath him as well as the even more alluring scent of the girl watching from the shadows. He bared his teeth, grunting as the woman's body squeezed him in strong, protracted contractions.

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. Close. Close now. But he wanted _her _to see.

The golden man lifted his shaggy head at the last moment and caught Marie's eye, hiding nothing as he came with a primal beastly roar that shook the room, not even remotely human.

His body shuddered, pushing deep as he rutted. He lost himself then, his eyes finally closing as he filled the woman with his seed in hot spurts that left him breathless and weak. Another battle with nature that could not be won.

* * *

Up next: **Hurts So Good**. The aftermath... _Come on, baby, make it hurt so good. Sometimes love don't feel like it should. You make it hurt so good..._


	30. Hurts So Good

"God," Marie breathed reverently into Logan's neck, shaken by what she'd seen and done, by how she felt and by the depth and breadth of what the bearded man had let her see in those final helpless moments. She was surprised and disturbed that he'd done that, and that she'd responded to it so viscerally. It felt a bit like how she'd always imagined it would be to lick a light socket. A rush so intense it shorted everything out in a shower of sparks and a jolt of power too strong to be contained.

To have that intimate connection with someone and to hold his eyes while also feeling that deep throbbing inside her as he gave himself to her in hot, shuddering spurts was almost more than she could wrap her spinning mind around. Marie couldn't help but imagine Logan looking at her the same way as he poured into her, holding nothing of himself back. What would that be like? They'd had walls and boundaries for so long. The idea of total freedom was as terrifying as it was compelling.

Her own body was humming with desire and she could feel Logan all around her, his body rigid, every muscle bunched and hard with tension. She was would equally as tight. She wanted to come, needed it, but she couldn't. Not here. Not even in this secluded little alcove. It didn't feel so safe now that the bearded man had invaded it with his intimate stare.

It was all too much, like some wild carnival ride that she couldn't get off of that kept spinning faster and faster. Her fingers tightened on Logan and she nestled deeper into the safety of his big solid body. He was warm and strong and safe. Feeling him that way made the rest of the world recede a little.

"I gotcha, darlin'." Logan's long fingers were still entwined with hers. It felt familial rather than prurient. She hadn't needed him that way in a long time and it felt good that it was still there for her, even now.

He didn't ask her if it had been too much. He could tell from her trembling and the way she'd pressed her face into him that it had. It sobered him, pulled him back from the edge. He'd wanted to open her mind a little tonight, not blow it completely. He was directly responsible for her discomfort and the weight of that settled unpleasantly in his belly, even as his body screamed for release. The Wolverine was somewhere in the mix too, making him more unstable, woken by the luscious scent of lust and need and innocence, and by the vulnerability in the small form clinging tightly to his chest.

The light winked out.

In the shadows, Marie could see the woman turn in the man's arms and he kissed her, smiling lazily as he collapsed into her embrace, catching his breath with a wide grin. They slid together easily in a decadent, sweaty tangle of limbs as their skin crawled with pleasant little aftershocks. The man took his time, unhurried and indulgent as he savored those intimate moments with his lover. A kiss to her sweaty temple. The brush of his fingertips along her spine. Her hand lightly cupping the heavy droop of spent flesh between his legs. The flash of a white smile in the darkness and his low purr of masculine contentment touched Marie in a way that his deep grunts of pleasure could not. A true moment of naked intimacy.

The leonine man pulled the woman up gently, making sure she had her balance before parting from her, though Marie didn't miss the flash in his eyes as they flicked down to the pearly trickle slowly running down the inside of his lover's thigh. Proof of their pleasure, and of his virility, too. The woman dropped his hat back on his head with a quiet laugh and they walked toward the edge of the stage, fingers linked and swinging hands like children on a dirt road back home.

Marie whispered a quiet 'thanks, sugar' into the darkness.

Logan rumbled a 'welcome' into her ear and across the room, the man touched the brim of his hat and Marie swore she caught a softly murmured 'ma'am' as the couple disappeared from view.

The trip home was a blur. Marie had a vague memory of Logan's sure hands zipping her into her coat before settling her onto the bike and pulling her close. The temperature had dropped. The bite of the wind was icy on her face but her body felt hot, tingly and wild, like a wildfire raging under her skin. She plastered herself to Logan's back and said nothing as he kicked the bike to life and guided her hands up under his jacket.

That felt different, too. Her fingers had the urge to move this time, but not to tickle him. This time she ached to sink them into the heavy bands of muscle and pull him close, to rub against him and dig her fingers into him and to feel the weight of his body pressing her down. She wanted to map his skin with her hands the way the woman had done to the man on the stage tonight. To open her legs and body to him. To make him shudder and hear the rough sounds of his pleasure and the softer rumbles of his satiation. To let him finally see all that she'd kept hidden for so long. Understanding burned brightly in her. How blissfully freeing to have her partner provide direction and the boundaries in which she was free to express herself.

A part of her was disappointed the night hadn't ended with her and Logan behind one of those closed red doors. Another part of her was glad. If they ever did give into this thing between them and make love, she didn't want it to be with any of his mutation filling her up. She wanted to feel it. To not heal instantly as he pushed in deep and took what was his. She wanted to be all of herself, _only_ herself, with him. At least the first time.

The Rogue was curious and hungry for all the physical delights she'd been denied for so long. She wanted to explore how their mutations might work with and against each other to heighten their pleasure. That would be something new for them both, something they could explore and define together.

The bike roared under her. Fueled by what she'd seen tonight, Marie gave in to the fire in her blood and let her imagination run free, pressing herself against Logan's strong back and breathing him in deeply as the black highway disappeared beneath them.

Logan rolled the bike to a stop outside the school. Marie dismounted, stammering a little as she looked for the right words. "I— I..." Her cheeks were flushed and her body was loose and languid. Without the air rushing by, stealing away her scent, he immediately understood why. She smelled ripe and heavy with satiation.

While his lips curled knowingly, his blood burned. She wouldn't be the first woman to enjoy the rumbling of a heavy bike between her legs. He had thought he'd felt her shudder a few times on the ride back, but had chalked it up to the biting cold. Now he knew differently, and Christ, knowing she'd reached orgasm pressed against his body made him even more frantic for his own release.

He forced his voice into a carefully neutral tone. "You good, kid?"

"Very." That husky admission was out before she could stop it, sultry and low. He chuckled, but his fists clenched tight in reaction. She flushed a deeper pink and avoided his eyes. "I mean, yes. I'm fine. Thanks. I had a good time tonight."

That got her the raised eyebrow but what he really wanted to do was bend her over the bike and shove himself inside her over and over until her voice was husky like that from screaming her pleasure to the night.

Logan forced down the reply such a charged comment begged him to make, and he tweaked her ponytail softly. He had to fight to keep his touch light, casual. "It was fun, darlin'. Best time I ever had there, hands down."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He didn't elaborate. Their shared eroticism tonight was far more arousing than all the dirty things he'd ever done, and that list was long and filthy. The Wolverine had few limits, sexually or otherwise.

Marie squirmed a little under his intense scrutiny. His mouth actually watered.

God, he would probably smell her a county over. He knew that under her suede pants her panties would be slippery and warm, drenched from what she'd seen tonight and the number of times she had come on the bike, shuddering against his heavy body. His hand twitched with the urge to delve into that glossy heat, to spread the scent and slick of her over his fingers, and to bring it to his mouth. To hold her eyes while he licked the taste of her from his hand.

The scent was maddening, clouding his brain. It was difficult to think beyond how she'd feel around his fingers, fluttery and hot. Under her clothes, she was ready for him. Slippery and open. One finger wouldn't be enough for either of them. She'd need two. He'd use three. Open her up. Push her legs wide. Hold her down and make her come again and again. He needed to feel her squeeze down on him and to spread the new gush of wetness down his thick length to ease what was coming next. Logan shoved his hands in his pockets instead.

It didn't help. His fingers brushed against an unfamiliar texture, and it took a moment to place it. The feather the woman had tried to give him earlier. With that memory came another, inextricably tied. Marie's voice, clear and certain, claiming him. The memory of her tongue on his neck, bold and unapologetic.

Fuck.

He handed the feathery plume over wordlessly, thinking it would help. He couldn't stand any more physical stimulation right now, but the sight of her twirling it absently in her fingers was a hundred times worse. Her expression was painfully transparent now that the physical tension in her body had been released. He could see exactly what she was thinking and the imagined pleasure of using that feather with her that way made his skin crawl with lust.

"Are _we_ good, sugar?"

He understood that she needed reassurance after what they'd experienced together tonight. "Real good." Whatever happened, she'd always be his to protect, but he needed to go. Right now.

"Sorry I freaked out a little there at the end. It was just a lot. So big and so much."

"S'fine. S'good havin' ya close. Nothin' wrong with workin' out where the hard edges are, kid." He took in a deep breath, trying to calm the fever raging in his blood. The chain keeping the beast leashed was slipping through his fingers. It wouldn't be long now.

She leaned in and gave his whiskered cheek a quick kiss. "Thanks, cowboy."

He had to stifle the low growl welling up in his chest. His lungs were filled with her, adding a razor edge to his desperate need. "You bet."

Marie stood there awkwardly, shivering in the silence.

Logan leaned up to kick over the bike and winced. He was painfully hard. His hand hesitated on the throttle of the bike, gripping tightly as he warred with himself. He knew better but the Wolverine didn't play by anyone's rules but his own. "How many times?" he rasped. "On the bike," he added at her look of confusion.

That damnable blush was back as she realized what he was asking.

"Three."

"Christ," he muttered, jaw clenching as he adjusted himself with a grimace. "Wait until tomorrow to come get the shit you left down at the house, huh?"

She nodded. Her pink face showed the interpretation she had put on his words. She had come. He desperately needed the same release. She thought he didn't want to be interrupted tonight, when the truth was even rawer than that.

He didn't trust himself to let her go twice.

* * *

Up next: **True Colors**. More than friends but not yet lovers. The Wolverine and the Rogue struggle to find a new way forward now that everything is different.

_Author's note: I know, I know! I can hear the howls of displeasure from here. "No sex at the sex club, you evil little tease! WTF?! That's just not right!" To that I say a resounding, "Well, yeah! Y'all didn't really think it would be that easy, did you?" Heh. _

_You guys know me, though. The amount of time we spend in Nookietown is directly related to how long it takes us to get there. I assure you, my LoganMuse is doing his damndest to be sure you're not disappointed. I think this story is going to wind up near the 50 chapter mark (I have currently written 40 of those chapters) and I'm fairly sure a certain growly badass is going to insist on a return trip to the Red Door that ends much differently before all is said and done. Heh. It is me, after all. Onward! _


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